At No Time || Bruno Mars

50

"You know, she's gonna start thinking I'm her owner and not you," Roger commented with a smart rise to his brow. The young dog was tucked under his arm, panting excitedly as she watched her actual keeper ready himself to head into the airport.

Peter gave his friend a smug look as he closed the trunk of Roger's car. "Not even in your dreams, kid," he surmised and ran a hand over Jewel's head. She licked at his palm, always excited for a head rub, but when she saw Peter's suitcase, she began to whine, having finally understood that when they was pulled out of the closet, he was leaving her. Any other time, he would have quietly left her at Roger's house when she was half-asleep in her crate, but he thought to bring her along this time to see him off.

"See? She misses me already," Peter chuckled as she whimpered, biting lightly at the sleeve of his jacket to keep him from moving away. "Now you be adequate for Uncle Rog, okay? Rough him up a bit, but not too much." He scratched behind her ears as Roger rolled his eyes and followed with a humorless, "Ha ha ha."

Jewel's whining and longing barks echoed behind Peter until he was secured inside the airport, checking his watch to make sure he was on time. The sun had not even risen in Los Angeles, but Peter found it better to leave early so to beat out the heavy traffic guaranteed during the afternoons.

He found less trouble acquiring one of SoulWork's private jets than he would a regular plane, and once settled in with a complimentary glass of champagne, he was promptly lifted into the sky, the clouds a sterling gray against the bright moon. For a brief moment, he remembered how frightened Trystan was of planes, and he wondered how she felt about jets.

He pulled out his laptop and pulled up some files he had been able to retrieve after she had mentioned Robert's son, Matthew, used to work and silently resigned at a company in Vermont. He had spoken again to Stacie, who jokingly warned she was going to start charging him for all the research he asked of her, to see if she could pull out any information.

Surprisingly, while she was unable to find anything immediately on him, she did manage to scrounge up an old document that listed firings during a year, and his name was listed as one of those who were let go. That had struck Peter as odd; Matthew having been terminated rather than leaving himself was not very Bennett-Price-esque.

The document printed and tucked safely in one of his folders, he was eager to tell Trystan was he had found out.

He had spoken to Christine as well about Matthew, remembering how their conversation had begun harboring confusion, and then had grown passive-aggressive.

"You didn't tell me you knew Matthew," Peter mentioned casually as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Christine was in his living room, making sure she had not misplaced any of her things after their night spent in there.

She looked up at him confusedly, "I don't know him," she told told as she pinched her pearl earrings back into her lobes.

"He was at SoulWork the other day and I saw you talking to him. That conversation looked lively as hell for strangers to be having."

Though his statement had been followed by a chuckle, her brow had furrowed at his accusation, and she fleetly disagreed, "I really don't know him, Peter. I've seen him other places before, but I'd spoken to him for the first time that morning. When I was coming out of one of the offices, he spotted me. I didn't even know he knew who I was, but he approached me and started asking me about my work. You know how I am, Peter. I like to make lively conversation with everybody."

That part was true, Peter could admit; Christine was a buoyant individual, but it did not quiet his uncertainty.

"Well, what was he talking to you about?"