"I think it was based on a real crime, but spiced up a bit." He sat down next to her and studied the TV.
Gone was the days of skinny Raymond, who was nicknamed Slenderman because of how thin he was. His shoulders were packed with lean, hard muscle and his stomach looked as hard as bricks.
"I never enjoyed these shows," Raymond said, still looking very engaged in the plot despite the complaint.
"I wanted to be a cop when I was a kid." Khione said, snuggling deeper into the pillows. "I stayed up late watching shows like this whenever I could." Her parents hadn't wanted her watching them, and her foster parents decided to try and keep her off the TV by giving her a later TV availability. "NCIS. That was my favorite."
"What does NCIS even stand for?" he asked, laying down on his back. The back of his head touched the top of her feet by accident, so he shifted over slightly. "And why do they only investigate Navy crimes?"
"Naval Criminal Investigative Service." She answered, eyes never leaving the screen. "They investigate Navy crimes to split up the workload. There's one for the Army, too. They do a sort of crossover episode a few times, even though the Army detectives don't have their own show. It's surprising how much crime the military gets up to or is involved in. Sort of."
"I doubt there are that many serious crimes in the armed services," he responded, scooting up so he was laying next to her. "Have you decided which room you want to take, or are you just gonna nab mine?"
"Imma stay in here. If ya don't mind." She said, shifting away to give him some room, before apparently deciding against it and moving closer. "So I can watch TV instead of sleep." Anything to avoid being met by her nightmares.
"I don't mind it at all," he said, shifting onto his back and folding his hands over his stomach. "Anything to make you comfortable."
He didn't realize what he was actually doing by inviting her to live with him. He was striving so hard to make her happy because he felt guilty for leaving. That type of complex emotion couldn't really be processed fully, but all he knew was that she needed to be as happy as he could make her.
"Ya don' have t' do that. If ya want me t' grab a different room, I will." She said, finally looking away from the TV screen to look at him, a brow arched. "It's no biggie." It hadn't hit her, what he was doing. The trying to appease her, or however he saw it. She just knew she didn't want him bending over backwards for her.
"The other beds need more love, anyways," he said, waiving her off. "It'll be fine, don't worry about it."
The show cut to a commercial break and Raymond sat up, looking around for the remote.
"How emotionally invested are you in the show right now?" he asked, twisting around to look at her.
She hummed in thought, tilting her head slightly before shrugging a shoulder. "I'd rather start off from the beginning. This was just what was on." She decided, looking at him almost curiously. "Why?"
"An NBA game is on TV tonight and I wanted to watch it. We're playing one of the teams, too, so it'll help me with my defensive overages," he said, finding the remote and glancing over at her again. "Is that a yes or a no?"
“Sure.” She pulled her phone from the hoodie’s pocket, flipping open the old flip phone to text Rico. “Get yourself a leg up so you can kick their asses.”
"I don't 'kick their asses,'" he said as he flipped it to the game, laying back down beside her. He thought of commenting on the flip phone, but decided against it. She didn't react very well when he offered to buy anything for her. "I just play the game the best I can. You make it seem like a fistfight."
“Life is a fist fight.” She stated, fingers moving quickly with a practiced speed. Needing to send a quick message when I’m the middle of a fight payed off. “Besides, you don’t have to win every fight, just survive. That’s the main goal.”
Raymond didn't appear to listen, completely zoned in on the game playing on the TV. Occasionally he's mumble something like, "Bad shot. Defense was right on him," or "Why the hell was that a foul?" This went on for a full quarter and a half of game time before he shrugged and handed the remote to Khione again.
"Number 12 is a chucker and he looks for ankle breakers instead of making the right play. Their point guard is alright but he turns it over a lot when he gets double teamed. Their center is godawful, though. Embiid should have a hell of a night."
Khione took note of each thing he said, filing the information away in case it came in handy later. She took the remote, but didn't change the channel, arching an eyebrow. "Any more ya want to watch?" Her eyes were back on her phone again, where they'd been off and on the whole time, texting various Reapers and smoothing over arguments, by threatening to come back and kick someone's ass.
"I don't watch much TV," he admitted, shaking his head. "And that was the only game on, so there's nothing I really need to watch. Who are you texting?"
“Reapers. Usually, I just show up at the store to smooth most things over, or they show at the Hole.” She said, showing him the screen. She was currently in the process of telling off one of her contacts for stealing from a store run by a poor family. “I leave and suddenly everyone has a problem. I’m gonna kick someone’s ass.”
"Do you….need to go back?" he asked slowly, frowning slightly. She just got here and now she has to go back? "I-if you need to, I'll take you."
“No, Ray, I’m fine here.” She promised, furrowing her brows slightly at him. “They’re just takin’ a bit t’ learn t’ go to Silas now. Tha’s all.”
"What did you guys do while I was gone?" he asked, spinning around and facing her, sitting Indian style. "You keep on saying it's boring without me. What do you mean by that?"
"There just…wasn' much t' do with you gone. All that was left was fightin' and keepin' my Reapers safe." She said, shrugging a shoulder as she set her phone aside. "Kaitlyn showin' up made it a bit better, 'specially 'cause…she reminded me o' you a bit. Playin' with her, no matter how shitty I was, was kinda like playin' with you."
(You still plan on asking the question, correct? I was hoping that would lead to her asking that in return)
"She talks a lot more than I do," he mumbled, looking down at his lap. This time, he really felt guilty. She made it seems like it had been miserable for her. "But…I guess."
"Lot more outgoin' than you, for sure." She agreed, nodding. Folding the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands, she tilted her head, thinking for a moment. "What's it like, livin' out here? Way different from our city, for sure."
"Yeah, it's….different, for sure," he agreed, looking up at her again. "Well…I don't have to lock the doors. Like, ever. I can go to bed with the doors wide open if I really wanted to. It would just be kinda cold. Um….the people here are nice, too. No gangs, nothing like that. Just really nice people. I…I really like it here."