Ice Cream Paint Job | Popov

Tre sat on the counter, a half eaten apple in one hand and his other in the nearly-overflowing sink. He needed to calm down. The water soothed him, and rather than just sitting there, it had flowed up and encompassed his arm, cooling him down, soothing him. It was easier to contain his emotions when he was in water, easier to act less... lost.

Taking another bite of the apple, Tre sighed tiredly. It was well past midnight, most members back at the Safehouse had gone off to bed or a mission, but the whispers of his disappearance were still haunting him. No one liked that he'd been able to just slip off the map like that. No one liked that he had come back only because he had wanted to. He'd ditched the safehouse that the Mob had moved to, opting to actually go to the official Popov Residence - the only one on the record - and stay there instead. It was where he was supposed to be living, anyway, might as well actually visit once in a while.

By the time Iva reached the bottom of the stairs, she could see the kitchen was alight. Both of her bothers at the house were asleep and no one else was in the house to her knowledge. A thought occurred to her; Papa must have returned home recently, tired from the unusual work his job brought in.

Her feet barely skimming the floor, she broke out into a run, excited to see her father. She turned the corner, hair loose and mussed flowing down her back.

"Papa, I missed you-" she broke off, all of her happiness gone at the sight of Tre, "Why are you here?"

Tre barely glanced upward, his eyes darkening slightly at the sound of her voice. "I live here." He growled, the sound low and dangerous. "In case you've forgotten." He took another bite of the apple, letting the water ease away his frustration and anger at himself. He shouldn't take it out on Iva. He knew he shouldn't. However, for once, he had no control over his emotions. They were... off balanced. He knew he'd regret it all later, everything he did, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Just as he couldn't bring himself to offer a smile to the girl. He would have to marry her eventually, and that day was beginning to feel more and more oppressing.

"Papa's at the Safehouse." Tre muttered, biting the apple again, the sharp sound filling the kitchen. "I saw him before he sent me home."

Iva raised a brow at the boy, continuing into the kitchen. Opening the ice box, she hummed and hawed at the opinions available for a midnight snack. Her night shirt took away any sign of her figure and made her seem more of a tomboy than she really was.

"I know where Papa is," she replied, drawing the carton of ice cream out of the box. "I just wanted to see him,"

She glided over to Tre and sat herself on the high counter, legs dangling freely as she popped the top off the ice cream. "Are you still upset about the marriage thing, you baby?" She moved a drawer and pulled out a spoon, "Don't worry about it- it's all figured out,"

Tre laughed, and the water on the arm nearest the sink spread across his shoulders and made its way down to surround the other one, flowing over his fingers last.

"Sometimes, you know, my problems have nothing to do with you." He yawned slightly as the water flowed upward, swirling around his neck and stopping just below his chin. He hummed, and the water glowed gold briefly, though he didn't seem to notice. "But, I suppose I might be bored enough... what are you talking about, figured it out?" He paused for a moment, reaching back in his memory. "Hmm... when was the last time I even thought about our marriage...?" He shrugged, sending the water rippling, but it didn't move off of him.