Changing Tides [JohnProudstar]

16

"There's no guarantees, but if we want to find Andy and Lorna, we need all the help we can get." John explains, as he and I clean up the kitchen from breakfast.

"I'm still hung up on this guys name. Erg?" My face displays a look of confusion, "and he lives with his buddies in the sewers?"

"Let's meet him before dismissing him." John begins, only to turn his attention to the door to Marcos' room creaking open behind us.

"Sorry I'm late." Marcos stands in the doorframe, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Caitlin is gonna be looking over the information we got from Evangeline." John quickly disregards Marcos, directing his attention back to me. "I figured you and I could head downtown."

"I can join you on that." Marcos offers sleepily.

"No." John shakes his head. "You're gonna sit this one out."

"What?" Marcos asks

"You're a mess Marcos. I can smell the booze on your breath from here."

"Come on, I'm fine." Marcos argues.

"What about your little light show last night? All over the news. What the hell were you thinking?" John questions, and Marcos just sighs dropping his head in defeat.

"Hey," I place my hand on top of his. "The next time you drunk dial your ex, just make sure you don't include the entire eastern seaboard."

"I know I shouldn't have done it. I just..."

"Get your head right. We'll need you soon enough." John says, before walking into the hallway. I give Marcos one more sympathetic smile, before catching up to John.

"So, you want to tell me what's going on with you?" I raise my eyebrows, as the two of us walk the long hallway of the apartment building.

"What are you talking about?" He looks to me.

"Ever since we got back from seeing Evangeline, you've been weird, and... what's with these bruises?" I grab his hand, examining the red scarring on his knuckles.

"I just couldn't get back to sleep. I was doing some training." He brushes it off, continuing to walk.

"So they're just your standard "disappear into the middle of the night because everything is just fine kind of busted knuckles?" I ask sarcastically.

"If I hit something hard enough, my skin breaks. I'm not a robot." He sighs.

"Well, I've known you for almost five years." I place my hand on his chest to stop him from walking. "You've punched a fair amount of stuff, and you're crazy tough, and I've never seen your fingers like that." I say, looking up at him.

He smiles slightly. "Tate, it's fine. They're gonna heal."

"I'm not worried about your fingers." I roll my eyes. "And before you smile that stupidly perfect smile and tell me 'Tate, relax, everything's fine.' I'm pretty sure the whole point of having a girlfriend slash not girlfriend is telling me this stuff." I grab his hands, running my fingers over the bruises. "Come on."