YGMM: Iffy

Great friendships always start with a brilliant fist to the face.

***

Chris unlocks the door of the apartment and snaps her head up at the cry of her name. Alerted, she tenses, slides her messenger bag off her shoulder so it lands on the floor before cocking her fist back and slamming it into the flying projectile. 

Jones stares, open mouthed and wide eyed in shock at Chris, disturbed by the fluidity of her punch and guarded expression. Chris drops her fist to meet his dark eyes and follows his gaze down to Tristan. 

Tristan palms his jaw and groans from his position on the floor and Chris drops onto her knees in front of him. 

"I immensely apologize," she starts, gently prying his fingers from his face to better inspect the ruddy mark blossoming on his pale skin. "Jones, do we have ice?" she demands, eyes still locked onto the swelling, voice clipped like a general. 

At her tone, Jones jumps to his feet from his lounge on the floor, running to the kitchen to check. Chris keeps Tristan's head still as she checks Tristan's eye movements, noting he did slam the floor head-first pretty hard. 

Tristan furrows his eyebrows at her, attempting to decipher whether she's acting. He can never be sure, especially with women these days who will pretend to be all-caring to get with them. 

"I'm fine," he starts to say but she shushes him. He can hear Jones cursing from the kitchen and clinking, like something hitting the floor. Just like Jones, he discovers as he follows her directions of following her fingers with his eyes though, slightly amused by her serious tone.

Tristan chuckles when she absently swats his hands away from his face for the third time. Watching her worry slowly dissipates his own worries, so when she notices his humor, he smiles, recognizing genuine concern in her expression. 

She frowns slightly at his laughter, suspecting brain damage. "I just punched you so you shouldn't be laughing," she informs, and Tristan becomes interested in the tilt of her head and her dark hair falling out of her ponytail. 

Jones skids out of the kitchen, hands dripping. "Lucky they left an ice cube tray and tea towel," he says, handing the soaking lump of ice and towel to Chris. She accepts it with a "thank you" and lays it on her lap to retie his slipping knots. 

Jones watches her jeans slowly soak through, but keeps his mouth shut and turns to Tristan. Tristan turns to greet Jones with a smile and raised eyebrows, clearly amused and interested in the situation. 

Jones glares at his poorly-timed humor and almost barks a reprimanding remark to stop Tristan's mind from plotting when Tristan's face is pulled away from the silent bickering. The makeshift ice pack is pressed to Tristan's face and he yelps at the coldness. 

"Hold that here," she says as she places his hand onto the pack. She weaves her hands into his hair and he stares at her, perplexed, as she massages his head in search of bumps. 

Tristan lets a hum escape him as her fingers flutter through his blond hair. Jones watches, wary, and searches her face for some sort of indication that she is attempting to seduce them. Instead, he is surprised to find eyes intent on concentration and her heart-shaped face tilted in thought. 

Her hands slip out of the blond curls and Tristan almost sputters in protest. "No head bumps, eye movement normal, dilation normal, no concussion," she lists, speaking more to herself as she shifts off her knees to sit back on the floor with her legs crossed. She finally looks up at both their faces, one blank and the other pouting. "I must apologize again for the reflex. Tristan will be fine and the swelling should be down by tomorrow."

Jones regards her straight posture and clasped hands on her lap. She's being very professional, and she still hasn't complained about her soaked pants. How strange. "Where did you learn to punch like that?" he asks, finding that is all he can manage to say. He's never dealt with someone who didn't openly display what they wanted from them.

Tristan nods his head, leans forward and grabs her hands from her lap with his free hand. "That was awesome," he breathes, green eyes shining. "You've got to teach me to land one as good as yours."

She stares at his face, which is too close to her face for comfort. She wrestles a hand loose from his grasp to right the pack back onto his jaw. "My research supervisor in university is a karate fanatic and claimed I needed to know how to defend myself. I don't condone violence so I will be refusing to teach you." 

She doesn't huff with pride like someone who would have said the same thing. Jones is confused and decides he needs to retreat to think about this situation, namely her. He pulls on Tristan's shoulders, urging him to release Chris and stand up. "Well, thank you for checking over Tristan but we need to leave now."

Jones ignores Tristan's complaints and drags Tristan with him out the door. Chris follows them with her puzzled gaze as they dodge her for the door and head down the hall to the elevator. She can hear Tristan's voice before Jones growls to talk later.

Chris shrugs off their behavior and unfolds her legs to rub them awake. How long has she been on her legs for them to fall asleep? she wonders, shakily straightening up and grabbing her messenger bag from the doorway. She shuts the door and locks it before heading to her room. She flexes her hand and inspects the damage, glad that there isn't any sign of swelling, although there might be some bruising later. 

Shutting her own door shut, she starts to unpack her messenger bag with the intention to start reading her files.

***

   

It'll all start to piece together, I hope. This'll just take some time. I'm taking this slow. Very, very, very slowly. This is the slowest pace I've ever taken on a story but I'd like to keep it in tiny snippets and test out my thoughts on this. This has been such a part of me, I've got to give it some time to really sink in.

I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to do this beginning ever again.

They are all confused. Jones is distrustful of Chris and is guarded because of their past encounters. Tristan is interested in Chris as he realizes that they were wrong to doubt Chris. Chris is perplexed at their behavior as she is more familiar with professional behavior than their, especially Tristan's, non-professional attitude. 

Hopefully, next time I update, it'll make some semblance of sense to their characters!

Well, be good for now,

Mera.