Frasier leaned back, his eyes sparkling. "That’s the beauty of it! It’s the 'proper story' of global communication. Somewhere in Ljubljana, a student is staying up until 3:00 AM, meticulously timing a line about Freud so that the punchline lands exactly when I take a sip of my coffee. It’s a digital bridge, Niles. A symphony of metadata and syntax."

Niles, currently inspecting a bottle of 1982 Chateau Margaux for any sign of "cork taint," looked up with a perplexed expression. "Pod-what, Frasier? It sounds like a specialized brand of boutique espresso pods. Or perhaps a very niche Slovenian pastry."

The two brothers hovered over the screen, momentarily forgetting their wine, their grievances, and the rain outside. In the glowing pixels of a subtitle forum, they found a reflection of themselves: meticulous, slightly obsessive, and desperately seeking to be understood—even if it was only through a string of text at the bottom of a screen.

Frasier gasped, leaning in. "He corrected the vintage of the Montrachet? Finally! Someone who understands that accuracy is the soul of wit."

Martin walked into the room, Eddie trotting at his heels. "What are you two yapping about now? Metadata? Is that a new kind of bran?"