Re: Quicklog: Penny and Cris
[Yeah, he knew the answer. He knew she missed her, 'cause how could she not? He knew it, but it was hard for him to see it in her. Maybe it was because Cris had been so distracted, so focused on his own pain, on Sam's, on Micah, all that, his eyes had scanned over Penny's more obvious bandaids when they'd met up a month or so back. That made him a bad partner and a worse friend. He knew that, and he felt bad for it now, after all he'd asked of her.—He was pretty skilled in ignoring things, but, ultimately, shit caught up to Cris, it ate at him and it consumed him, and then he'd be nothing but gristle and spit, gummed together and spat out on the sidewalk, and he'd have to put himself back together again. He felt too much and too deep, and it would gut him every time.
Penny was either better at ignoring than he was, or she had control where he didn't; where he was emotion, she could tamp it down.—He cocked his head to the side, watching his partner's face move with uncertainty, like she didn't know what to say, and there was more softness to his edges in that moment than most people got to see.] I'm sorry, Pen. 'Bout all of it. [Cris reached up to squeeze her shoulder.] You call her? There's a phone, in the hotel lobby, you can call out. I know she misses you too.