Re: Quicklog: Penny and Cris
I dunno, rednecks and their root vegetables. [Light, familiar teasing, light, familiar smile, and Cris tucked the aluminum back under the lip of the pie tin, careful, like he couldn't make too much noise. He was trying hard to stay sturdy, like maybe if he could get himself through tonight, he wouldn't find himself like Humpty Dumpty on his knees on his bathroom tiles again tomorrow. It was still pathetic, he knew that. He should be just fine, but the guy was more gut, more heart, than anything else, and when it ached, it went deep, siphoning out into marrow, until he was nothing but weak.
He wanted to reach out to Sam. But he shouldn't. She needed her space. So he tucked the tablet in the back of his sock drawer and he pretended to forget about it, at least until he was crying and all that. Then Cris remembered it with a burning sorta clarity. But, here, at Penny's, he played pretend again. Elena was gone. Teresa needed him. He was all she had, and she was all he had. It'd been that way before, before Elena came home, before Sam. Yeah, he'd had Penny too, but at home, it was just him and his girl, and... maybe it'd be good to go back to that.
And if Sam wanted to talk to him, she could reach out.
It was hard to leave it at that for someone like Cris, but he was holding out. He knuckled his eye and sighed. He had to pull the last few threads of stuff together for Teresa, so he took a minute to do that. In the meantime, tongue folding on his bottom lip, he looked at Penny with the hint of a smile.] My daughter says the word 'y'all,' I'm gonna have some other kinda word for that girl of yours. [He softened a little, making no immediate move for the stairs. He waffled a little, 'cause he knew if he did reach out for an embrace, that'd be the end of Sturdy Cris Martin-Argüelles.] Thanks, by the way. For all this. I know Chinese doesn't really cut it. Guess I could send you home with that extra large pizza. That's gotta come close.