The real Sheldon points at the screen. "See? I objected."

"What?" Mary leans in.

She hands him the pencils without a word.

"I need to draw a cat. With a mustache. It’s for science."

On screen: a younger, bow-tied Sheldon stands before a whiteboard full of entropy equations. He pauses mid-sentence, squints at someone off-camera, and says: "If you're recording this for nefarious purposes, please be aware that the MPEG-2 compression algorithm will irreversibly alter the chroma subsampling of my demonstration."

"That’s not possible," he whispers.

Missy stares. "For what?"

"People were confused. They thought I was describing the church potluck schedule."