Re: [AyB. Cris y Mari]
Let's allow for the fact that alla that stuff with Elisa was was almost thirty years ago, huh? You wanna talk about a mindfuck—Mari here had been about the same age Joey was now. And Cris hadn't hit eighteen then. Sure, you wanna say you were mostly who you were by then, or close enough, forged in the cruciblea your experiences, you can do that. Cris would even agree. But, Atticus wasn't wrong—they'd been talking, and the guy had said life changed people. Sometimes radically. Cris mighta believed that he was still the same guy he was 26, 27 years ago. Más o menos. But, he knew that while that kid had become him, he was more than that kid. They weren't interchangeable. 'Course, Mari wasn't stupid. Cris knew that, not just 'cause she was Elisa's hermanita, but 'cause you could just tell, huh? Still, she didn't know a whole lot about him and she was working offa that. And he was working off even less. Looking around gave him a kinda insight. It could mean nothing, or it could mean something, and right now it didn't really matter which it was. It just mattered that he could see it.
Cris laughed a lil when the nena asked, wasn't she an uncomfortable encounter? "I'm comfortable," he told her, teasing. Where she mighta been stone, Cris was molasses. His smile was easy, a warm, syrupy response that didn't really mean mucha anything 'less he wanted it to.—But, yeah, nah, he was just teasing. Though, I dunno that Cris woulda called himself uncomfortable right then. He'd been some real bad situations, and this was, so far, mostly pleasant. "You not comfortable?" 'Course she was. Cris didn't know if she'd let herself feel uncomfortable. But, hey, maybe he was wrong.
The stuff in the bag was some in-season fruit—berries, melon, citrus—half a dozen bagels in whatever flavors with cream cheese schmear, and that single vanilla parfait. Cris watched as Mari passed off a cuppa coffee to him, then went to spreading stuff out. His eyes followed her hands, then flicked back to her face. Before answering, he lifted the coffee to his lips, blew lightly across it, and took a sip of the froth. She made good café, but that wasn't no surprise. "Thanks for the coffee," he said first, sucking the foam from his upper lip as he thought about what she said. "You wanna know 'bout..." A small shadow formed between brows slightly furrowed. "...how she died." It was kinda a question, but mostly an answer. Cris put down the coffee, and for the first time since arriving, he wasn't smiling.