Misfit (Phan AU)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

*Dan's POV*

I waited patiently for any form of follow-up on Chris's end, watching each and every minuscule change in his expression despite how unnerved he seemed to be by the meticulous close attention. It's not like it wasn't uncomfortable on my end as well, spending this much time studying anyone else's face would probably be unsettling, especially at such close quarters and with someone I knew so little about.

Hell, all I'd really had to get to know the guy by was a poorly-served cup of apple juice, a one-way ticket out of the club via bouncer, and now a gallon of water splashed over me. It wasn't exactly the basis for an easily-formed relationship, nor was it enough reassurance for me to be able to tell one way or the other whether he was serious about this nonsense or not.

Even after the in-depth analysis I'd been giving him, somehow he still managed to keep an incredibly straight face. I'd never seen someone with such acute acting abilities, not caving under the pressure of my gaze and somehow still remaining stoic on the matter. It was almost like, well, almost like he was actually being serious and there really was nothing else there to detect.

By now my patience was beginning to waver, realizing that this stand-off could go on forever if I continued to leave the ball in his court. He wasn't about to make the first move, he'd seemingly twisted it around in his mind to believe that I needed a moment of silence to process the insanity he was speaking. I mean, I could see how that'd be accurate with other people, but not me. I didn't want to sit here oblivious in my own head, I wanted answers that apparently only he could give me.

So instead I decided to halfheartedly take the lead, clearing my throat loudly and narrowing my eyes where they stared into his.

"What-" Yet it seemed the second I seemed on the verge of sharing my piece, he felt entitled to broadcast his own instead. Funnily he'd stayed silent the entire time only to talk over me when I'd finally worked up the nerve to speak. What a douche.

"Take this." He ordered, thrusting the water bottle that still had its contents toward me so hurriedly it hit my chest and crumpled just slightly under the impact. I found myself lifting a single eyebrow for what felt like the hundredth time in this guy's presence, gingerly prying the plastic bottle from his grip.

I wanted to laugh at him, to dismiss the situation for the ludicrous turn of events it truly was, but there was something in his expression that looked so overwhelmingly serious I couldn't bring myself to do the obvious.

Instead I looked down and carefully inspected the water, taking note of the familiar brand still adorned to the bottle with a paper sash. It didn't look like anything special, it honestly just looked like something that had tumbled out of the vending machine on the way here.

"What is it?" I asked finally, curiosity getting the better of me. I was impressed personally by how serious I'd managed to make my voice sound, confident that it wasn't a tone he'd be insulted by. He'd know I wasn't making fun of him, that I just wanted to know what importance he held toward this everyday drink.

I glanced toward Cat for reassurance on the matter, expecting to see an encouraging pair of thumbs up in my direction or something at least. But she was still standing in the same spot as she had been before, when she'd loomed behind crazy-eyes at a loss for what to do to help me.

Yet, even now that he'd gone she didn't look relieved in the slightest, if anything she looked more troubled. I frowned, wondering if perhaps she felt guilty for not being able to do more. She should know never to feel like that, considering her limitations she does far more for me than most the living.