Pencils & Polaroids

08: lapdog alert

"Wait, wait, hold on . . ." I say as I position my Instax camera to the perfect angle to click a perfect picture of Rainer serving me the most perfectly blended coffee. 

As soon as I click, he shifts his position to put my coffee mug on the desk. As soon as the polaroid slides out of my camera, I fan it and await the big revelation. Grinning at how perfect that picture looks, I caption it: Lapdog Alert before putting it inside my bag. 

He sets his own coffee mug beside his purple file before plopping down on his chair. If there's anything I've learned from Day Two, it's to never put any gut feeling past him. I bend over and exchange our mugs. 

"You spit in my coffee yesterday." There was no need to mention it but I still do to answer his questioning stare. 

He groans. "I already told you something was up with the machine yesterday." 

"If there is no problem with either of the coffees today, why are you getting so defensive?" I cock an eyebrow as I bring the mug destined for him near my lips. 

He drops his shoulders and gives a casual shrug. "Fine, drink away from mine."

That very statement makes me pause. If he's being this generous to give away his mug, it could be a trap. Maybe he did foresee me exchanging the mugs after yesterday's disaster so he intentionally switched our mugs. This can easily be a stunt of reverse psychology because sometimes I can be predictable too. 

"Unless," I announce before he grabs the mug in front of him. "You knew I'd exchange our mugs so you poisoned the one in front of you intending for me to pick it up." 

"Jesus Christ," he holds the bridge of his nose while pushing both the mugs in front of me. "Have both, alright? I don't want coffee anymore." 

I shake my head as I break down his moves. "Both the mugs are poisoned, aren't they?" He blinks. "That's why you're being so generous. That's why you don't want coffee anymore. You knew I'd do this--you knew I would suspect the mugs--you're such a--" 

He grabs both mugs and takes a sip from each of them. My nose crinkles when he places the mug he had first assigned me and takes the other. 

"Are you satisfied, Sherlock? Now, anything that happens to you will happen to me first. Relieved?" He speaks in a mocking tone as he takes another sip from his mug. "Until yesterday it was me spitting in your coffee. Today it's poison. What's tomorrow? Cold-blooded murder?" 

"I wouldn't put it past you." I lean over and grab a tissue. 

As he watches, I wipe the mouth of the mug that touched his lips with the tissue. I crumble the paper after wiping my mug completely clean and hand the tissue ball to him. He takes it with accusing eyes and shoots it to the trash can that's on his side of the room. I hate to admit it went inside the bin on his first careless attempt. 

We work in silence. He continues to brainstorm group games and I jot down updates from all the departments that I receive through small pieces of torn paper. I know it's time for me to take a break when I casually stretch but I hear my back muscles cracking. I push my chair away but the common room door bursts open with four oddly enthusiastic people rushing towards me. 

"Park?" Sam says as she places a big white chart paper in front of me. "We cracked it." 

Before I see what the sketch is, Jayden falls on the chart paper to cover it up. "That is not how you reveal million-dollar ideas, Welch." He slowly exhales a breath before switching back to his excited energy. "May we present to you," he completely leans away from the paper. "The Lady Labyrinth, where you rise and die."