Monday, 17 December 2012

YGMM: Cracking the Chrisy Code


"What are you plotting?"

Jones's accusation is hissed as soon as they enter the kitchen. Tristan places the plastic bag full of empty, crumpled wrappings from their burritos and used napkins on the counter beside the sink and starts to run water over his hands. Jones waits patiently for an answer as Tristan washes his hands.

Tristan shuts off the tap and flicks his hands in the air to fling water droplets at Jones's scowl. "I'm making a friend," he finally says, stepping away from the sink. He wipes his palms on his jeans and hoists himself up onto the counter. This is just the start of a very long conversation, he realizes.

Jones takes his place in front of the sink and starts to wash his hands as well. "We don't need friends."

Tristan smiles thoughtfully at Jones's hunched shoulders. "She isn't at all like the others," he defends, "Chris is genuine and she's very interesting. She doesn't want anything from us." 

The tap shuts off and Jones wipes his hands on his jeans. The furrow between his eyebrows is still present. "I trust you," he states, pressing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "I just don't trust your decisions."

Tristan laughs, much to Jones's annoyance. "I'm glad! But you'll be swayed by her charm!" He knowingly points his finger at Jones and winks. "Maybe you already have!"

Jones rolls his eyes and joins Tristan on the counter, leaning back so his head rests against the cupboards. Tristan is usually just as cautious of others, although he outwardly doesn't show his wariness as he does. The trust and unrestrained curiosity Tristan displays around Chris, is usually reserved only in the company of each other. 

"You'll fall for her," Tristan repeats, gently. "She's special, and maybe we need to start trusting people, besides each other." Jones turns his head and watches Tristan focus on the wall opposite them. "We can't keep running. This is our opportunity to change and I think we can do it; we can trust others, starting with Chrisy." 

Jones grips the edge of the counter top contemplating Tristan's words. His decisions are never right but his intentions are always in a good place. Jones sighs and glares at the ceiling. "Fine, but I want in on your new plan. Don't think I didn't catch you scheming." 

Tristan gasps dramatically and pouts. "What plan?" he asks innocently and dodges Jones's jab with a smile. He sobers up and glances at the hallway. "I just want to spend time with her, is that bad? I want to know everything about her; what she likes, what her favorite color is, why she's so defensive against burritos." 

Jones nods, reflecting on Tristan's jovial response at retelling about his information on Chris. "You want to interrogate her."

"No, no, no," he shakes his head slowly, then stops to smile playfully at Jones. "Actually, kinda, yeah."

Jones chuckles to himself. "Fine, but watch what you ask. You've already had a taste of her punches."

Tristan joins in on the chuckle, fingering his jaw, devoid of any swelling. "Yeah," he breathes, "but the aftercare was wonderful." He wiggles his eyebrows at Jones and, once again, dodges a jab. 

Tristan hops off the counter and heads toward the hallway. "Detective Tristan off to crack the Chrisy Code," he announces with a wave, and Jones leans back, digesting the revolution being lead by the blonde idiot.


I'm going to keep going and, maybe, I'll reach where I wanna be.



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