*:･ﾟ✧ 1000 hours.
Downtown Los Angeles.

I make it down to the lobby right on time, but I still find Trix pacing impatiently by the grand revolving doors of the hotel. She doesn't say anything as she looks up and glances at me, her stress clear in her expression. The psycho blonde snatches my hand and tugs me outside, practically dragging me down the street behind her. The girl might not be able to pickpocket someone or pull off a large-scale heist, but she's still talented as fuck if she can move that quickly in heels. My feet hurt just watching her.

"Charlie?" She whispers over to me timidly as we round another corner.

"Yes?" I huff, wrapping my coat more tightly around myself for warmth.

"Does my hair look alright?"

I sigh.

"What?" She hisses, poking my side.

"I didn't say anything," I defend. "I'm just cold, that's all."

"Okay," she drawls, her squinting eyes signaling blatant disbelief. "Can you answer the question?"

"You look beautiful, Trix. You are beautiful."

She smiles but it falls with my next sentence.

"You also deserve better than my brother," I deadpan.

"What?" She chokes out as if she didn't expect me to realize she liked him after nearly a decade of watching her behavior regarding that oaf of a "man."

I just shake my head and keep walking. Now I'm the one tugging Beatrix along.

"Charlie," she tsks at me, "I don't know what on Earth you're talking about."

I sigh, rounding the corner sharply and swiping a shiny new Rolex off a bypassing man's wrist. I slide it into my coat pocket before retorting.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, B," I scoff. "I think it's about time you look in the mirror and realize how fucking incredible of a woman you are all on your own. A man will only slow you down, drain your bank account, and stress you out. Nobody's worthy of your time, Beatrix. Especially not my brother."

"Look, Charlie," she starts but doesn't get the chance to finish because I let go of her arm and push open the small wooden door to the coffee shop. The crisp winter air that had surrounded us outside was snuffed out by the roaring fire keeping the small area full of warmth. The small shop was empty, so I took the liberty of seating us close to the comforting fire with a view outside the window.

Trix sauntered up to the counter and obnoxiously rang the bell to signal to staff customers were here, a childlike grin on her face. I laughed and shook my head at her antics, shuffling out of my warm coat and draping it over the back of my chair. I slid off my "borrowed" pair of black leather gloves and stuck them in the pocket with my brother's gift.

No, I didn't buy him anything. Remember that Rolex from earlier?

Always plan ahead, my loves, I promise it can only ever help you. For example, I know my brother won't be coming alone to this meeting. He's more than likely to be bringing a certain special friend, so, naturally, I decided to bring my special friend as well. 

It seems great minds do think alike, although I haven't decided if our being related or not has anything to do with our similar techniques.

Danny is late, per usual, so Trix joins me with two croissants at the table of our choice. She assures me that hot chocolate is on the way. We make small talk for a few minutes as we wait for our delicious drinks to arrive, but considering we've been best friends for nearly two decades it feels strange. I allow the awkward conversation that concerns boring topics such as the weather and unpopular opinions on various breakfast foods purely because I know Beatrix needs this. She's fidgeting like an addict and won't stop eyeing the door, no doubt impatiently awaiting Daniel's arrival.

Simply put, my brother is a pig. He does not, nor will he ever, deserve anyone remotely as perfect as Trix. Clearly, I do not approve. Of course, as with any relationship, the best friend's advice typically goes out the window in these scenarios.

"Have you ever seen snow this beautiful?"

"You already asked me that, Beatrix."

"Oh..."

She doesn't finish her thought before a boy no older than 19 walks up to our table. He smiles sweetly at Trix as he hands her one mug of steaming hot cocoa. He turns to me, hands shaking, and gives me the same smile. The poor thing looks terrified, so I return it, only to see him flush a deep red and quickly turn away. 

I laugh to myself and my best friend casts me a knowing look before joining in. We barely pull ourselves together before we're sent into another fit of laughter because of the funny faces we are making or the noises we classify as "laughs." I love her to death, but Trix sounds like a hyena when she laughs. It's especially funny when she starts snorting.

We keep going back and forth for a good few minutes before B catches sight of something over my shoulder and stops laughing, her facial expression slipping back to only house the ghost of a smile. I hear the faint jingle of bells attached to the door and don't even have to turn around to know who just walked in.

A pair of footsteps saunters up to our table and Trix's face flushes even deeper than the waiter's.

"Hello Daniel," I murmur, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. I refuse to turn around just yet.

I don't get a verbal reply, just a squeeze on my shoulder as he stands behind my chair. Trix is suddenly very interested in a napkin.

My heart skips a beat as my ears pick up on another set of footsteps following closely behind my brother. Beatrix glances up from her now crumpled napkin and her mouth falls open in shock. Even though I didn't tell her I knew he would be here, I assumed she would at least suspect as much but it appears I was wrong.

My brother takes a seat to the left of me, smiling at Trix as he takes his coat off. I keep my gaze ahead, still keeping myself from looking behind me. My hair flutters as he moves closer, resting his hand on the back corner of my chair near where Daniel did except he doesn't quite touch my shoulder.

Danny and Trix are so silent I forget they're here.

I stir my hot cocoa uneasily as I wait for his next move and I curse myself for being able to read literally everyone else on this Earth like an open book except for him.

A throat clears much too close behind me for my liking.

I still don't turn and he waits a beat before trying again.

This time, a little nudge to my shoulder.

I put down my mug, but I still don't turn around.

Moments that feel like hours pass before I hear him. Two barely perceptible words are spoken close to my ear.

"Hey, Charlie," he whispers.

It's the first time I've heard his voice in 9 years.