Re: Quicklog: Penny and Cris
[She looked up at him, all white girl and worry, bright blue eyes, and everything clear on her face, and Cris came this close to cracking, right there on her front steps. He was put together so fragile, it wouldn't take much to shatter the protective shell he shouldered, steeling himself with hands on the steering wheel on his drive over. Yeah, lockup had done a number on him. Lockup, Sam, all of it, worked real hard to bring him down his knees, and he let 'em.
He'd go tomorrow and sit in confessional, and he'd try to work it out. But for now, he needed to be all glued up for Teresa. Glued up with half a shadow of a beard, but she'd just think it was funny.—Yeah. It was part for her, part for Cris himself, 'cause he needed her too. He needed to hug her and sit with her like two useless lumps on the sofa, with the TV on, as she told him about the stuff she'd been doing. He needed that as much as anything.
Maybe that was plain on his face, least when it came to someone well-versed in his expressions, like Penny. Cris was on the sidewalk, one step below where his old partner stood, and they were almost chest-to-chest.
Once upon a time, before he knew about ...stuff, Cris had harbored guilt over his partner, over finding her attractive, in spite of the ring on his finger, though it was loosening up by then. But, she was a good friend, maybe his only one. Cris took a deep breath. He didn't reach out to hug her, as much as he maybe wanted to. Instead, he settled back on his heels. He was unconvincing when he asked with a shrug,] Talk about what?