“Mind knower?” Tristan hadn’t heard that phrase before, but he thought it was fairly obvious what it meant. To know someone else’s mind seemed like a great compliment and Tristan nodded decisively before adding, “I like that.”
Sugar and alcohol were easy to provide and Tristan set out the tubs of ice cream on the counter before he began to dig around in the cabinets, hoping that Nic would like the drink. Then again, even if he didn’t, he might just drink it in order to deal with his problems. “Each of your problems? How many problems do you have?” It seemed like most of the problems that Tristan dealt with recently were about Xiomara’s poor life choices, so he didn’t know if he could actually help Nic with anything.
“I do not remember what this is called, but a barkeeper showed me. It is something about dirt, maybe?” It made him think of the ground, but Tristan didn’t remember the specifics.
When Tristan repeated it Nic grimaced, unusually sensitive about his mishap in the moment. He waved a hand, many-silvered rings glinting in the light. “I forget the word. Phrase. Mind...” but it was a blank. He let out a small noise of frustration. “You know what I am thinking without the need for me to say it.”
He realized only belatedly that he’d spoken over something Tristan said, and when he paused, backtracking in his own mind, he finally registered the “I like that” from the other man. He flushed, hand dropping. Too late to address it now, he just looked grumpy and ungrateful, probably. Although he was usually grumpy so it wasn’t as if he’d sold himself short or anything. And he’d warned Tristan at their first meeting that he wasn’t a good person. Still, part of him felt bad, even if he wouldn’t move to do anything about it.
He watched as Tristan dug around in the kitchen, curious about the concoction being made. He wasn’t much of a drinker originally, and he didn’t tend to have a sweet tooth, but human behavior was hardly 100% consistent all the time. At the question about problems, he blew out a hard breath.
“I have... many problems.” The problem that was Nate, in an of himself, and now specifically his not-boyfriend. The problem of Nic’s magic. The problem of Yuki and Luka, who were still stubbornly trying to get past his walls, and the fact that he was maybe inclined to let them. The problem of working for a homicidal crazy person who’d been angrier than usual, according to the higher-ups Nic worked with, and the fact that his little brother was also wound up with said homicidal maniac with him.
“Most alcohol tastes worse than dirt,” Nic shrugged, unable to fill in Tristan’s blank. “I am not particular about it. But I appreciate you making this.”
Another beat of silence. Nic slid a bit down the couch,and let his gaze drift to the ceiling while he settled a hand over his chest, the other trailing to the floor, and pulled up one of his legs so it was crooked at the knee. His fingers tapped dully against the floor, frantic.
“My brother is seeing someone, but he is lying to me about it. It. Is one of the problems.”
