TRISTAN'S POV
Night one; Tristan played video games. For about twelve hours straight. Not his proudest achievement.
One might wrongly assume he were an addict or couch potato who chose to spend eighty percent of his life in a virtual world slaying monsters and building dream worlds.
A wrong misinterpretation on both counts. In fact, before that night, Tristan had never succumbed to virtual pleasures before. Well, at least not of the gory kind.
He'd bought the console and game boxes on a whim some forgettable time ago and stashed it somewhere close to his unused suitcase. He'd thrown it in with his clothes because why the hell not?
Anyway, it had felt easier immersing himself into a world apart from his own than thinking about the thousand ways a certain woman dear to his heart could die.
Deckard didn't appreciate such frivolities.
"Wanna join?"
Tristan had so generously extended the olive branch because his dear brother looked ready to knock a wall with his forehead.
