He was running. Jacob was running - sprinting, really. He dashed across the kitchen and all the way upstairs to his and Emma's bedroom. And then he shut the door. He stood there, eyes wide in the afternoon darkness, the blinds down on the windows. "Fuck." He cast his eyes around the room, trying to find something that would tell him what he was supposed to do.
His phone. His phone! Jacob pulled it out. He would call Emma. She would know how to handle this. She would know what one ought do in the face of one's son and his friend not playing video games as they said they would be. - Speaking quickly, he caught his wife at work. She told him to talk to Alfie, to open the door (and keep it open!) - she knew what to do.
Nearly ten minutes passed before a knock sounded on Alfie's still-closed door. "Uh, are all parties decent?"