Re: quicklog: cris & elena
[No, he saw. He saw. He saw his wife looking at him like she wanted to be anywhere else but here, like she'd made some great sacrifice to come over, like she hadn't just been the one eating her own words with a fucking spoon, and Cris stared her down. The abrupt quiet was buried, gone, and they were practically chest to chest.] You can't only stay when it's what you want, when it's convenient, just so you can leave when you get bored or angry or I'm not what you want or whatever! That's not how it works!
[Cris could have gone on on that point, but she had to go and ask him her favorite question when she wanted to divert the problem onto his shoulders: what's wrong with you. He jabbed himself in the collarbone with double index fingers, hard bone meeting in a thud, when he answered.] What's wrong with me? You tell me to talk more and then you go and talk to someone else? [The man's mind reeled back to what he saw as the original problem here: Elena trusting her friend more than him to listen to her problems. His eyes were black and wild.] What's wrong with me is you! YOU, because you can't make up your mind!