Tristan bit his lip, chewing on it a bit, his eyes glancing to the side, "I just...it's what you get when you're here." He stammered a little bit, his charm shield failing him, "Do you want to continue our game?" He coughed slightly, hoping that would change the subject.
Ira chuckled, finishing the last, and final croissant, "I suppose we can." She touched her chin slightly in thought before pointing towards him, "I think it was your turn."
Tristan nodded, regaining his charm, "Very well. Favorite hobby?" He looked over the firm tone of her arm, noticing strength and curve of her legs underneath those tight, tan, jeans. "Working out?"
Ira's grin widened.
She wasn't sure if he would want on elaboration on the word 'hunting' if she stated that instead, "It's one of my favorite activities, yes. I worked out earlier to wake me up, but it didn't work." She scratched the back of her head, "Hmm...Favorite music? Classical?"
Tristan shook his head, "I'm forced to hear it every day but no. I like Alternative Rock, like Red Hot Chili Peppers or Imagine Dragons." He paused to think of his next one, "May I make this uncomfortable again?"
Ira sighed, giving a little grunt, then a loud groan, her head tilting back. She lifted her hand in the air, being a little dramatic this morning, "'Oh Ira, sweet, sweet Ira...Why did you not sleep well?' Is that what you want to ask?"
Tristan gave a little snort, looking away to keep his laugh in. Soon his smile faded, and he looked over to her again, blue eyes filling with concern, "Did you have a nightmare?"
Ira sighed again, this time a smaller one. She didn't like the look on his face, that concern; it made her feel pathetic. She moved her head forward, her wild hair covering her eyes a bit as she considered her answer, "...A memory."
She took another gulp of her coffee, tasting iron again, "A disappointing memory of a long time ago." She set the cup down, her eyes on his, steady and focused. Her thick lips took on a bitter smirk, "My childhood sucked."
Tristan bit his lip, his eyes looking towards the side, "I'm sorry-"
"Do you have bad memories? I'm guessing...yes?"
He opened the door into that topic, it was her turn to pry.
He closed his eyes, a small, harmless and bland smile on his face, "Most people have bad memories."
Ira tilted her head; something about that bland expression was off. She kept that door opened, her eyes focused on his face, "Oh? Bad enough, they keep you awake?"
His brow furrowing just slightly, "Sometimes." That came out in a murmur, his mask of a smile faltering.
"Sucky childhood as well?"
"...You can say that." His eyes opened slowly, revealing a storm in them, a tempest that turned the blue of his eyes near midnight. In those turbulent depths, there was a plea.
A plea to let that door close.
Ira smirked, enjoying that gaze, the last desperation in them. So her angel had darkness hiding in those bright eyes. She could feel an urge to forcefully open that door as wide as it could go, tempted to engorge herself on the secrets inside.
However, he wasn't her prey. In fact, as attractive as that desperate look in his eyes was, right now, she wanted that brightness to return. She let the door close, locking it away, and she murmured softly, "Well, this is uncomfortable." She took that final sip of her coffee, leaning back against her chair, "We all have bad memories that keep us awake. It's if and how we move forward that matters." She took one last look at her cup, mulling over it a little, "Your turn Tristan."
He released a shuddering gasp, life returning to his face as they stepped away from that abyss, "Favorite drink? I think you like wine."
Ira chuckled, "I do like wine, but I prefer whiskey. It helps me sleep...I should've drunk some last night."
Tristan smiled softly, that brightness returning as the storm subsided, "Whiskey? I prefer rum or tequila."
"I could've had several glasses of those too."
His light laughs reached her ears like a comforting song she joined in his chorus with her own hearty laugh. They needed to laugh. Him to forget about the unpleasantness that was his past; her because it kept her in the present. She grinned, her chest heaving a little bit as she tried to stop, "Okay, I'm gonna steal one you mentioned asked. Favorite hobby?" She motioned to his abandoned book on the table, "I'm going to guess reading."
He looked down at his book, nodding, "I do like books, and I like reading. Keeps me company and takes me to faraway places."
"Oh?" She looked over to the book as well, curious, "You were reading it earlier when I came in." Her curiosity made her lean forward to take a look at the cover, "What it's about?"
He blinked, picking it up before giving a nervous laugh, "It's uh...a romance-"
She scoffed, her brow furrowing in derision, "Oh no. A 'quirky' one?"
He gave a little grunt as he began to pout, "Hey, it's actually pretty sweet! It's a little quirky, yes, but it has some comedic moments." He turned his body to the side, cradling the book against his ribs to shield it from mockery, "It even has action too. I was at a pretty suspenseful part when you got here."
She raised an eyebrow, a little dubious, "Suspenseful? Action? So it's not just pretty little people looking into each others' eyes while thinking about how gorgeous the other person is through flowery 'magical' words." Her lashes fluttered quickly before her eyes went wide, gazing upwards towards the sky, "'How could someone like you notice someone like me even though several scenes were spent explaining how I am oh so beautiful.'" She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead, tilting her head back as if she was about to faint. The red tangled ringlets of her hair falling over the back of the chair, "'I'm not going to see you for a few pages, but it'll feel like FOREVER! How could I POSSIBLY live on?'"
Tristan pouted a little more, before he gave a slight smirk in realization, "You seem to be very familiar with cheesy romance clichés."