They sat on the bed across from each other after a long night. Gene was buttoning up his shirt, the green one that Sam thought brought out his eyes, those eyes that always seemed to change whether they were in the light or in the dark, whether he was solemn or annoyed.
Right now Gene was annoyed since he just caught Sam staring at him. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to figure you out."
"You wot?"
"What colour are your eyes Gene?"
His guv gave him a suspicious look. "What sort of dopey question is that?"
"I feel like they always keep changing and once I make up my mind I starting doubting myself again."
Gene dismissed him with a shrug. "Well I don't stare at myself in the mirror all day like you do Gladys, got better things to do."
"C'mon Gene, just tell me."
"What does it matter?"
"I want to know something for sure, and I want that something to be you."
"…Fine." Gene pulled his paisley print tie from off the floor and stood in front of the flat's broken mirror. He looped the tie around his collar while gazing at himself, trying to humour Sam before he got even more sentimental. "They're um….they're…"
After a long pause Sam thought Gene was concentrating a bit too hard for such a simple question. "You don't know do you?"
"Of course I know! You think I don't know?"
"You're doing a stellar job of convincing me, yes."
"Alright Miss Prissy Pants what colour do you think they are?"
Sam rose off the bed and studied Gene who was staring back at him defiantly. "Green."
"Well you're wrong they're blu –"
"—But sometimes I think they're blue, just not right now."
"Then they're green."
Sam frowned and stepped back. "You can't just choose the opposite of whatever I think!"
"Isn't that how we usually work?" Gene pulled his camel coat on and tossed Sam his leather jacket.
Sam caught it, shook his head and smirked in amazement. "You stubborn bastard."
"There, now you figured me out."