Hello all! Once again, a big thank you to everyone reviewing and messaging. Such positive feedback! This chapter doesn't necessarily contain huge amounts of plot progression, but I do believe character progression is also important. I hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think!
Tris was insistent on leaving right after their conversation. Tobias asked her to stay at least long enough for him to wash her clothes. She declined
He watches from the doorway as she gathers her clothes that she had piled in the corner of the room. She pulls her shoe from under the bed and scoops up the bag of medicine off the floor and sets it on the corner of the bed. He stands there watching, not really knowing what he's expecting to happen. Her eyes meet his as she walks to the door and gently shuts it in front of him, leaving him standing on the other side. Tobias sighs and walks away, knowing she's just taking off the clothes he's given her and returning to the ones she came here in.
Tris stands in the entryway, right next to his carefully placed shoes and smiles graciously at him. How stupid that he felt like he was being broken up with. Perhaps it was a bit like that. Clearly she had seen something in him she did not like.
"Thank you," she says again. "I really do appreciate everything."
Tobias smiles back at her. "It's no problem, Tris." Then he reaches around her and opens the door wide, allowing her chance to escape. She nods in his direction one more time before turning away and walking out the door. "Hey, wait!" he calls even though she's only five feet away.
"Yes?" she asks him, one eyebrow raised.
"Just…if you ever need something you can come back, you know?" God, what was he doing? It was bad enough that he brought her back here in the first place. For all he knew she could show back up when he was at work and rob him or cook meth on his stove or invite all of her street friends with her. But he just keeps inviting her back. It was embarrassing, really, a sadly desperate invitation. "Like if you need a place to crash or something to eat, don't be a stranger."
Tris immediately looks prepared to shoot his offer down. She opens her mouth but freezes before any words escape. "That is very kind," she tells him.
Tobias can't help but think of a freezing cold night when he'd decided to take his coat off his back in order to be one thing, kind. Was that his only reason for doing these things now?
"And hey," she adds, turning back around again. "You don't be too much of a stranger either. I do still enjoy coffee." He smiles at that and fights the urge to hug her. Tobias couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged somebody.
"Take care," he tells her and she smiles his way one last time before turning and walking toward the elevator. Tobias shuts the door and kicks those damn perfect shoes aside. Why bother keeping up all these appearances?
Perhaps Tobias should have given his dad a bit more credit. He had never realised just how difficult it is to create a project when most everyone is against you. Either you know they don't agree with what you're planning, or you're worried they are being nice to your face but secretly hate it as well. It's a bit like being back in high school.
Tobias had never been much of a leader so the concept of getting all of these people on board with something they're completely opposed to was a bit overwhelming, to say the least. He remembered his father doing these very same things. Tobias would wake up in the morning for school and have nowhere to sit at the table while eating his cereal because his father would have papers everywhere. He'd quote statistics and use Tobias as a sounding board even. His father knew how to rally an entire team of people, until eventually, he was rallying the whole office.
Tobias wasn't really sure if he had that sort of drive or ability to rally just the fifteen people needed for this project. Admittedly there were a few who did seem genuinely interested Monday morning. Particularly, Christina.
"Mr. Eaton!" He'd heard her call and thought little of it. Usually when people were yelling Mr. Eaton out it was not to get his attention. But then he feels her hand on his arm and turns in surprise. "Sorry, sir," she says, smiling like she didn't even know why. "I just wanted to talk so we can get a bit more organised on this thing."
"Oh, yeah," he says with a shrug. "We can have a meeting or something later this week."
Christina rolls her eyes at him and gives a slight shake of her head. "Yeah meetings are good and all, but don't you think you and I should sit down and talk strategy, figure out what exactly we're doing and where we're going?"
"Uh," he says. "I guess?" Were they going to war or feeding the homeless? Did they really need a strategy plan and a map of desired regions for this sort of thing?
She smiles widely again and waves for him to follow as she turns and walks away. "Well come on then, we can start in my office."
It was all a bit strange; having this woman lead him to her office that he didn't even really know existed. A part of him is near certain that he's going to walk into one of those giant maps you see in Game of Thrones with little clay pieces placed all over to indicate armies. Thankfully it's more like scattered papers and the scent of cinnamon apples.
Her space is small. The desk takes up the most space and she has to turn sideways to walk to the other side of it and sit down. She has, for whatever reason, brought her own lamps into work and the fluorescents are shut off. Overall, despite how crammed and messy it is, Tobias surprisingly finds it quite calming.
"Please, sit," she tells him as she sits in her own chair and begins shuffling through papers while her computer boots up. "Also, please don't tell your father how messy my office is. One time I left a cup in the break room upstairs and I thought he might blow a gasket because of it. Seems like the neat and tidy type, if you ask me."
"Neat and tidy is one way to describe him," Tobias says without a hint of humour. Even after his little shoe kicking tantrum he'd had yesterday morning he could only go one hour before fixing them back into place. What an annoying habit he'd inherited. "But don't worry, I won't breathe a word."
The papers are continually shuffled as Christina says, "Thanks," and furrows her eyebrows. "Sorry, I know it's here somewhere." Tobias waves away her apology. Honestly, he was kind of jealous of this tiny little office tucked away in the corner of everything. He liked that there were no windows showing the tiny people rushing about on the streets below and that no one offered him juice the second he exited the elevator onto this floor. He also didn't mind the smell.
"How long have you worked here?" he asks, picking up one of her trinkets on her desk and turning it over. With all the clutter on her desk he wondered if she even knew it was there.
She does eye him though so he sets it carefully back on her desk. "Me? I'm here for a journalism internship."
"So you're a reporter?"
Christina shrugs, "Sorta, except not yet really. Specifically I'm a human rights journalism major which is why I'm heading this charity project."
Tobias' head spun a bit. All this school stuff sounded complicated. "But shouldn't you like, have a boss if you're just a student?"
She laughs at that. "One might think, but let's just say your father doesn't put a whole lot of stock in these charity events and would rather just pay me minimum wage and college credit than pay a social worker or someone to head all of this stuff."
Nodding like you know what is going on was usually Tobias's defence in these sorts of things. Not that he was stupid or didn't care, he just didn't tend to ask too many questions. "Well at least you're getting a lot of experience, right?"
"Exactly," she says with a wide smile. "Aha!" Christina holds the folder proudly in the air. "Ready to begin?"
It was only after two and a half hours of planning in a cramped, warm office that Tobias realised just how much effort it took to organise an event like this. Between gathering press involvement and deciding on safe areas as well as choosing the easiest to carry items, it was all getting a bit confusing; as was finding enough people to help man the hand outs when the only two people who cared were the ones sitting in that room.
Christina worked fast though. She could ask him a question and find the answer all in the same sentence. She'd start a thought and trail it so far off that Tobias didn't have a change of following it. He was kind of mesmerized by the whole thing. The way she thought and worked through everything out loud. It reminded him of the really smart kids in algebra class. They could start with a few letters and numbers and turn it into the standard deviation of -6. He was always jealous of those kids.
In another life he'd always wondered in what ways he would be different. If he was the son of a mathematician would he be one of those kids in Algebra class with all the answers? If his mother had been a violinist would he be a world renowned symphonist? Had both of his parents been heroin dealers would he be living on the streets too? Nature vs nurture was something so many scientists always questioned, but Tobias felt he had always known the answer. The way he was nurtured, or the lack thereof, had made him exactly who he is today. At least he thought so.
Perhaps that was why he was so jealous of people like Christina or the math kids. They could start and solve a problem all in one breath. All he could do was ask more damn questions.
Honestly, Tobias was slightly exhausted by the whole ordeal, and by the end of the night wanted nothing more than to go home and crash for the night. So when Christina finds him in the elevator that evening and invites him out to the pub he's ever so tempted to say no. Especially considering what happened the last time.
"Come on," she says. "It'll be fun, I swear. My boyfriend was supposed to go but he bailed on me for some dumb emergency book club or something."
Well she said she had a boyfriend so at least he knew she wasn't asking him out. "Emergency book club?" he asks with an incredulous tone.
"Not really but something to that effect. I just want a few shots of tequila and a night out for the hell of it."
"You do realise it's a Monday?" he asks, surprised to find her so eager. How did people have the energy to do this mid-week? He could barely pull it together on a weekend. Christina just nods in response as if to say, duh. "Alright, why not?" he says, because it wasn't like he had anything better to do.
Christina spends the walk there, college student=no car she explained to him, talking about their project together and asking him about where he got the idea. He lied.
When they get there Tobias starts with a beer but quickly moves on to scotch as she keeps talking about the damn homeless people and how considerate he was to come up with such a kind idea. "Can we just, talk about something else?" he finally asks after his third drink.
"Oh,sorry," she says, downing another shot. "Sometimes I forget that this stuff isn't all as bright and shiny to me as other people. Probably gets old after a few years."
Tobias is taken aback. "How old do you think I am?" He knows he sounds offended but he can't help it.
"I don't know." He stares at her to let her know just how much he wasn't accepting that answer. She smiles and steals his scotch for a swig before she answers. "Mid to late twenties?"
"Wh-you're kidding, right?" Her face suggests she isn't. "I'm only twenty!"
Christina's hand flies up to her mouth in exaggerated shock. "Nu-uh, you're drinking scotch in a bar for Christ's sake."
"Yeah," he shrugs. "They know I tip well." She shakes her head slowly like the light has just turned off and revealed the truth to her. "Do I really look that old?"
She shrugs again, "It's not really how you look. I mean, do twenty and twenty seven really look that different?"
"Jesus, twenty seven," he murmurs under his breath. He would drink to that.
"It's how you act, I guess."
Tobias considers that. What made him think people were older than him? Aside from grey hair and walkers, that is. "Do I complain about my eyesight a lot or something?"
She laughs, the kind of laugh that only comes with the lovely inhibition of alcohol. "No, like…you know." He raises his eyebrows to let her know that he doesn't. "You're…surly."
"The fuck does that even mean?" But then he finds that the alcohol bubbles in his system just right, and he can't help but laugh a little too. Surly, who the hell uses words like surly? Damn reporters, that's who.
"You grunt and gruff and…okay, look, when you walk," she stands up in front of him and slouches her shoulders. "You hunch your shoulders and always have this really pissed off look on your face if someone looks at you for too long."
Watching her Tobias can't deny that her stance does look vaguely familiar. "Well shit, sure wish someone would've told me I looked like such a bastard."
Christina laughs. "Well the good news is people still like you better than your dad. Before this project at least they did." After a second what she just said registers on her face. "Oh my god, do not tell him I said that. Please."
His hand waves off her concern. "Trust me, nothing you say to me will be making it back to him."
"Not the happy father/son power couple you're supposed to be?" she says this as though she's already well aware.
"What do you think." Her eyes glimmer with the confirmation to her suspicions. "Don't go writing some report on that."
His finger points drunkenly in her face as a warning and she swats it away. "No one wants to read a paper about some dumbass CEO's relationship with his son. Hate to break it to you, Eaton, but you ain't that special."
"Tell me something I don't know." She smiles kindly while he knocks back another drink.
On his walk home the two paths mock him. He contemplates with himself, she probably won't even be there so what's the harm in walking by? As well as, just leave well enough alone, at least for a few days.
He felt like the puppy dog kicked to the curb who just wanted to follow his owner back home. The worst part was, he kept going on about this kindness thing and being a good person, and not one other homeless person did he feel the desire to drag home and feed soup.
It was Tris's own kindness that had drawn him in. But there was something else about her that kept him coming back. Be it her nerve or her sense of humour. She was the sort of person he could have seen himself being friends with in high school. And seeing as how currently his friend pool was about in the negative numbers, he wasn't being too picky.
Whatever it was, loneliness just kept catching up with him.
She wasn't there tonight anyway.