𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴 | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾 𐂃

Chapter 11

Cristine's eyes snapped up, shooting daggers at him. "Of those two idiots? Barely. I didn'teven know they were together until a few days ago and I'm already part of their fights." Staring at the couple again, Cristine pulled up her nose.

"Yeah, they're a handful," Troy chuckled in agreement. It was rare to see Cristine unwind and free of worry out from the Ranch's protective walls. Seeing her like this made Troy feel as equally relaxed. And for probably the first, in a long time, he didn't feel the need to play the cat and mouse game. He did miss it since neither of them never nissed a beat. "I guess for some people it's good to be distracted sometimes."

"Distractions is what gets people killed." Cristine bit back sharply, ruining the mellow mood within a span of five seconds. She hadn't seen how Troy shook his head as she stared at the fire.

Troy briefly looked around the perimeter of tower and truck in place. It was very simple, but more importantly had the advantage of quickly spotting the unknown from afar. "Speaking of, I haven't seen any dead walking around for a while. How far did you go to waste them?"

Cristine lowered the stick back in the fire, wiped her hands on the top of her pants and gave her answer as if it was a simple walk in the park. "I cleared them in approximately 5 clicks. Enough to see what's happening and leave in time. The ones I didn't kill are repellents. Just to be on the safe side."

"As prepared as always. You look more like James than Hailey in that manner, not to be rude or offensive," Troy mused with a faint nod more to himself.

"I wasn't until you said that," Cristine groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. The laughter and giggles of Mike and Hailey didn't sound as obnoxious and grating to the ears anymore and with a pull of her shoulders, shrugged. "You look more like your father than Jake. Same thing." Her tone was a bit biting and Troy decided to ignore it.

"Maybe. Mike mentioned Hailey didn't go hunting or camping with your dad as often as you did." Cristine arched her brows questioningly, "I was curious how you managed to bring back deer during a coming drought is all." Troy admitted and innocently raised his hands at her accusatory and dead panned expression for knowing such menial details about her.

"Yeah, I had a good teacher. It was me and my dad's thing. We went out every other weekend. It started with setting traps until he thought I was old enough to use a hunting rifle. My first stake-out lasted so long I couldn't feel my legs, but it was worth it... I shot my first rabbit with the first try." When Cristine narrated her hunting experience during her younger years, her black eyes were like a gateway to her mind and feelings. It occurred to Troy that her eyes were the most intense and compelling even if she didn't talk. He swallowed thickly, a bit unnerved by the odd distraction his mind just created. Troy joked about the subject of her with a sniping riffle to weed out his odd and uncomfortable thoughts.

"Well there's room for improvement regarding those long range sniping skills of yours." Troy oh so mocked offered with a smirk that left Cristine with a scowl.

"Well excuse. We don't all breathe and live guns since we wobbled around in diapers like you did,"  Cristine answered.

"That's something I won't deny." Troy felt oddly satisfied to talk and joke around with Cristine like this. He would dare say it was second to their back and forth. The atmosphere was normal and their conversations cordial, even close to banter with a friend. A friend that didn't necessary avoid him because of his skewed emotional scale or judged him over the things he'd done. He wasn't sure if Cristine had accepted the things he did, things he still did. Other than making her opposing opinions known, Cristine had never explicitly said that she hated him anymore. On the contrary, her thinking pattern was in sync with his, regarding everything that could possibly be detrimental to the Ranch.