[He set a few dinner items on a second plate for himself, though the portion was half of what he provided to Jinx. He turned off the appliances, picked up the plate and made his way over, noting that she didn't fight his previous claim for confirmation. He knew she had engaged as he had accused, and it was easier to try to tip the tables on him.

He knew his daughter was not fully settled back in, that there were people and places that still tugged at her. He was keenly aware of her attachment to the dead kid and the dead father figure, but he kept his resentment buried deeply. After all, he had been punished for his own death here, and it was a repeat that he wished to experience again with her already pulled back from the status quo chaos he was used to.

He took his seat, setting his plate in front of in the spot Jinx had prepared. He crossed one leg over the other and picked up the glass of wine, swirling it as if he could fake caring about the body and fragrance of the liquid.]

We see each other when our schedules align. I'm not concerned about a break up, and neither should you. We've tolerated each other this long.

[In his mind, that settled any argument on the matter. It was no where close to revealing the complicated and layered nuance that was his relationship with Richard. Neither of them were soft men, and their triggers and baggage was many. That they hadn't killed one another was likely a miracle of some sort.]

I'm working, and I'm spending the weekend with you.