"You're late," Kitty hissed when she the open door to Lance and Palmer, but the anger quickly disappeared from her face when she saw them. "Wait. What's wrong?"
"Well it turns out…" Palmer started.
"Everything's fine," Lance cut him off with a look before turning back to Kitty. "Just lost track of time."
"It turns out what?" Kitty crossed her arms over her chest.
"Katherine?" a voice rang out from inside. "Who's at the door?"
"Get in," Kitty sighed as she ushered the boys in the house before wagging her finger at Lance. "But this conversation isn't over."
"Katherine?" a short, frail woman came through a doorway wearing an apron over a nice dress. "Oh, Lance. You look… older."
"Mrs. Pryde," Lance nodded at her. "I see you haven't changed a bit."
"Oh, aren't you sweet," she forced a smile in return. "And you must be Palmer. Oh my, aren't you just the spitting image of Lance. Well, you might grow out of that."
"Thanks?" Palmer shot a look at Lance and Kitty but the two just shrugged. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Pryde."
"Oh, call me… um…" she looked over at Kitty for help.
"Sandra," Kitty offered.
"Oh," Sandra looked disappointed. "Sure, Sandra is fine."
"It is," Kitty assured Palmer before changing the subject. "Where's Dad?"
"Probably in his study," Sandra waved in that direction. "You know how he gets."
"You mean he hasn't retired yet?" Lance asked.
"He has," Kitty sighed. "He just hides out in there."
"I better go check on dinner," Sandra announced as she turned to leave. "Make sure it's still warm."
"I guess I'll go get Dad." Kitty shook her head before ushering the boys into the dining room. "You two sit down."
"So you're just going to pretend like you didn't find out…" Palmer started.
"Well if you thought she was a treat, wait till you meet Kitty's dad," Lance cut him off. "He's much more straightforward with his insults."
"Oh good," Palmer rolled his eyes. "Complete denial."
"Mr. Pryde," Lance greeted as Kitty and her dad came into the room after shooting Palmer a glare.
"Lance," he responded cooly. "I thought I'd seen the last of you again, but here you are."
"Dad," Kitty warned. "You promised to be nice."
"And you must be Palmer," he continued as they all sat down. "Quite a bit bigger than I last saw you."
"Um, h-h-hi," Palmer stammered, "Mr. Pryde."
"Just call him Ben," Kitty offered.
"Ben?" he made a face. "No, you can call me Grandpa. Or Pops! I always liked that."
"Typical," Lance grumbled.
"Dad," Kitty bit her lip, "Palmer might be more comfortable calling you Ben."
"Why? I am his grandpa," Ben argued. "You're good with Pops, aren't you?"
"Actually," Palmer winced uncomfortably, "I already had a Pops."
"Had?" Ben quirked an eyebrow.
"He died a few years ago," Palmer explained with his eyes on the floor.
"Well, then Grandpa's fine I guess," Ben waved him off.
"He'll call you whatever he wants to," Lance snarled. "And if he can't decide, I've got a few suggestions."
"Ben is fine," Kitty cut in with a note of finality.
"Katherine?" Sandra called from the kitchen. "Help me bring this in, will you?"
"Please behave," Kitty begged of no one in particular before leaving the room.
"How do you like the Institute?" Ben turned his attention back to Palmer.
"I haven't actually been," Palmer answered warily.
"You haven't?" Ben looked concerned. "Then where are you staying?"
"With Lance," Palmer gestured in his direction.
"Temporarily, I hope," Ben grumbled. "Especially if he's still living in that house of horrors with those other numbskulls."
"The numbskulls and I have fixed up the place recently," Lance countered.
"Well, at least you've met Robert, right?" Ben continued on as Kitty came in carrying a salad bowl. "He's a great guy. I've always thought he makes a good role model."
"Since when?" Kitty snorted as she set the bowl on the table. "Last time you saw Bobby you said I'd be better off dating a baboon's ass."
"You could do worse," Ben remarked as Lance stifled a laugh. "Speaking of which, Lance…"
"We're here for you to get to know Palmer, Dad," Kitty reminded him as Sandra entered the room. "Not so you and Lance can pick up where you left off."
"I hope you like Brisket," Sandra smiled as she set the dish on the table.
"He looks like Lance and he lives with Lance," Ben commented as Palmer shrunk in his chair. "I'd bet you just about anything that he's trouble like Lance."
"That's enough!" Lance demanded as he stood up. "You made up your mind about me a long time ago, and never gave me the chance to change it. But you damn well won't treat my son like that."
"Your son?" Ben laughed. "Just what kind of father can you make? You're no more of a father than I am a clown."
"I may not be the overbearing blowhard you are, but I'm not a drunk, lying son of a bitch!" Lance yelled as the room fell deadly silent. Sandra was shaking her head at Ben who just looked confused while Kitty studied Lance who seemed to be in both shock and rage. Palmer held his head in his hands unwilling to look at anyone and believe this was really happening for a moment before finally chancing a glance at Lance. As soon as Lance had realized what he'd said, he stormed out of the house slamming the front door behind him.
"What was…" Ben began.
"You promised, Dad," Kitty cut him off before she ran after Lance.
"You will apologize, and you will make this right," Sandra ordered coolly.
"I will not do anything of the sort!" Ben fumed as he shot up from the table and retreated from the room calling, "And I won't be bossed around in my own house!"
"Brisket's fine," Palmer smiled weakly as Sandra slumped into a seat across the table.