anyone design such a thing?” he asked, tone reflective, barely above a whisper. “Why would inefficiency be tolerated?”
“Because it isn’t a squad of assassins,” Reese said. “It’s a family.”
“Family.” He snorted. “Christ, how very mundane.”
“Mundane can be good.”
Tenny turned to face him, finally; his masked was coming loose at one corner, the true him struggling to shine through; a bit of real tension around the eyes, and his mouth. “Careful. You’re very much in danger of sounding like one of them.”
At first, Reese had wondered why Tenny would throw these fits of intense club resistance. They had frustrated him: it felt like whatever progress had been made would evaporate. Like Tenny would start to lean into the idea of belonging, and then reject it wholeheartedly – and Reese along with it. But he’d learned that, rather, these fits were mostly for show. Like Tenny felt like he had to justify his initial prejudices; like he had to fight to remain the detached, perfect, government-trained assassin he’d been before, and which, at least as far as detachment went, he certainly wasn’t now. It was the only life he’d known, that of unemotional efficiency and usefulness; letting go of it was difficult. And so he rebelled, like today; acted like the club and everyone in it disgusted him.
Usually, the fits were brought on by something Fox had said or done. An order passed down from Ghost, whom Tenny still didn’t quite respect as his leader. But this time – this particular fit – had begun a few nights ago, when Tenny sat up suddenly, launched himself from bed, and left the room in a hurry.
They hadn’t spent any evenings together with one of the groupies since. And Tenny’s insults had seemed a little thornier and less teasing in the time since. What Reese had just witnessed with Evan hadn’t been Tenny’s usual, low-simmering disdain for the less talented. He was angry. Upset, something. And he’d taken it out on Evan.
Reese couldn’t help but feel that he was the one Tenny was truly angry with.
He’d improved, especially in the last few months, but he still lacked eloquence or subtlety when it came to talking about delicate subjects. So he cut to the chase. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” Tenny’s brows lifted a fraction, and Reese watched his mask slide back into place; its corners unfurling, sticking tight. The veil came down over his eyes.
Reese hated being on the receiving end of it. He frowned again.
“You’re doing that more often,” Tenny said, lightly, glancing away. “Frowning. It suits you better than smiling, I suppose.”
Before he could register the impulse to do so, Reese gripped his wrist.
Tenny looked down at his hand, his pale fingers curled around his own wrist, and then slowly lifted his head, the mask skeptical now. “Something on your mind?” he asked, mildly.
Forget the mask, sometimes Reese still hated him. “What’s wrong? You’re acting strange.”
“I am? How so?”
“You’re angry,” Reese said, jaw setting, determined. Tenny could act like an ass if he wanted to, but Reese wasn’t going to be so easy to shrug off and dismiss. “Because of me.”
Tenny made a dismissive sound. “Why would I be angry because of you? You aren’t the one who fights like someone’s grandmother and then cries about it. The wanker.”
“Tennyson.”
He stilled. Didn’t breathe, didn’t blink, his gaze fixed to Reese’s face; a window, in the handful of seconds before he moved again, to a shocking degree of turmoil. Anger was too simple a word, but Reese didn’t have the means necessary to describe what he glimpsed, in that moment before Tenny turned away, shaking his head in dismissal.
“The last time we–”
“Oh, leave it!” Tenny hissed, bolting to his feet. He took a few long strides across the pavement, one hand on his hip, the other pushing back through his tousled dark hair. Tension radiated from every taut line of his body; his spine was half-curved, a protective, defensive posture wildly at odds with his usual put-upon swagger.
Reese said, “No.”
Tenny whirled on him, gaze wild. “No? What’s gotten into you? What are you bloody digging for? Huh? Like you have emotions. Like you want to talk.” More barbs, like always, to distract from his own anguish. Don’t look too closely at me, I’m an asshole.
Reese knew the game now. He wasn’t offended. Wasn’t put off. He sat placidly, hands resting lightly on his thighs, and said, “You’ve been looking for a fight with someone since I kissed you.”
Tenny bared all his teeth in clear warning, like a