Chester would never be able to forgive himself if he abandoned the cause now. Sighing, he blindly stabs at his eggs again.
“Wow. What’d those eggs do to you?”
Chester’s eyes snap open. Bryant is standing just across the table with her own tray of food, her eyebrows raised at Chester’s assault on his breakfast. “Bry,” he says, unexpected relief flooding through him. “Hey. When’d you get back?”
She collapses into the seat opposite him with a groan, stretching her arms above her head. “Dude, I literallyjustgot in. I haven’t even?—”
“Showered yet?”
“Piss off,” she says breezily, but she shoots him a crooked grin as she grabs her spoon. “I figured I’d catch you here first and then head up to my suite to shower. Not like I have to beat the rush, after all.”
“Must be nice to not have to fight for the hot water,” Chester drawls, and all at once, a pang twinges through him.
It’s been so long since he and Bryant have just hung out. Sure, they try to eat meals together when Chester is off shift and Bryant isn’t on missions, but even that’s hit or miss lately.
And he didn’t know she was getting back today, but he should’ve. He’s been so preoccupied with his research and the conspiracy andObiethat he’s barely even thought about her, much less reached out to talk to her.
The next time she’s on a mission, he’ll make it a point to shoot her a few texts. Just to check in, see how she’s doing, let her know he’s thinking of her.
Exactly what heshould’vebeen doing all along, before the demon god sauntered into his life and made him forget everything else. He takes a deep breath. “Listen, I need to talk to you about something.”
Bryant’s eyebrows furrow. “Yeah?”
“I…” Chester looks down at his tray. “I know I haven’t been a very good friend to you lately. We fell off the wagon with our early-morning training sessions weeks ago, and we’ve barely talked outside of meals even when you’ve been off duty. I should’ve at least been texting you, and?—”
“Oh, that?” Bryant waves a hand dismissively. “I’ve been on assignments, and you’ve been busy. No worries.”
“Being busy isn’t an excuse for me to neglect you,” Chester argues. “And I haven’treallybeen much busier than usual. Not with anything that couldn’t wait, anyway.”
“You’re handling tons of strike team audits to get back into the Council’s good graces,” she counters, “and researching on the side to figure out how to get our friends back. I’d classify both of those things in the ‘can’t wait’ category.”
A stab of guilt twists through Chester. “Will you stop making excuses for me? I’m trying to apologize here.”
“Well, your apology is stupid. Therefore, I do not accept it.”
“I hate you.”
“Rude. That’s not a very good apologization tactic, Locke.”
“That’s—that’s not a word, Nehemiah.”
“I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours. Cut me some slack.” Unceremoniously, Bryant shoves a huge piece of sausage into her mouth. “Anyway, now that we’ve finished that part of the conversation?—”
“We haven’t.”
“Dude, has it escaped your notice that I’ve barely texted you, either?” Bryant demands, frustration winding through her voice. “Relationships go both ways. And without—without Jackson and Gutierrez here to bully us into human socialization, we both tend to fixate on our jobs. We’re the same like that. Too much the same like that, sometimes.” She leans forward, her eyes gleaming. “But you’re still my friend, and I’m still yours. That’s really all I need to know.”
Chester’s throat feels tight. “Thanks, Bry.”
“Anytime,” she says, and she takes an enormous bite of her toast. “Anyway,now that we’ve finished that part of the conversation,I want to hear about you. What’s been going on around here?”
Chester dutifully launches into a heavily edited account of the past week, leaving out pesky little details like watching JJ get engaged to his demon boyfriend and having sex with a god on an interrogation table. Since those were really the only interesting parts, Bryant is falling asleep over her plate within minutes, and Chester repeatedly kicks her in the shin until she curses at him, dumps the rest of her food onto his tray, and gives him a bleary wave before stumbling upstairs to pass out.
Leaving Chester alone with his thoughts once again. Grimacing, he glances towards the clock on the wall, half-hoping the minute hand will speed up and give him the distraction of twelve hours hustling around the prison.
Getting him that much closer to Obie coming back tonight.
Just to confirm. Last night didn’t change anything for you?
