6
Harry maneuvered his wheelchair through the front hall, dressed in a pair of shorts and a pink button-up t-shirt that he left untucked. The chair was still a sore spot for him, but it did its job, and he had a guest to greet.
A very disheveled looking Jack stood just inside the front door with a big smile on his face. “Enjoying your time off?” he asked, eyebrows rising behind those messy bangs. “Lots of time to loaf around?”
Harry looked up to squint at the lad. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he said with a nod. “I get to watch my robotic butler make tea, cook dinner and do a poor job of simulating a nineteenth-century British house servant.”
Jack chuckled.
A few quick taps on the control panel wheeled Harry around so that he was facing the kitchen, and he rolled through the long hall
