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He finds her by the window.
She's by the window a lot--says she likes to be able to see the sky. Erlich doesn't ask her why--but a few times, in her sleep, he's heard her talk about an asylum. He won't mention it, or call her weird--even if the guys are around, he'll just sprawl in the chair beside the window and dick around on his tablet, a hand on her ankle between levels of Candy Crush, as she curls up on the window-seat and reads.
This time when he finds her, it's raining--and when it rains, he gets moody. He's like a cat, his dad used to say--fluffy and irate around water. His papa would call him a pansy and make him go outside anyway. C'est la vie, Erlich thinks. That fucking dickhole, Erlich thinks. "You can't even see the sky," Erlich says; all but flopping down to sit in his chair, tablet in hand, "it's raining, why d'you wanna stare at the rain all day?"
She doesn't look up until she finishes her paragraph--and he should have known better to expect otherwise. This is how he talks to Dinesh, or--particularly, Jared. By the time she's done--he swears she takes longer just to reaffirm thats he's on her time, not the other way around--his brows have drawn into the vaguest of frowns, and he resists the urge to tap his foot.
"I take it you don't like the rain," she states; tone much drier than the ground. Her gaze flickers up to meet his own--and Erlich's words die in his throat, the sharpness of a no shit, Sherlock, retort lost in the green of her eyes. He expects her to tell him to knock off the attitude--to shut the fuck up until he's in a better mood--but then, all at once, he remembers that she most certainly doesn't talk to people like that.
Well. She doesn't talk to him like that.
His wordless pause gives her a moment of confusion, and she curls up to sit forward; slim, pale legs crossed appropriately--she's such a lady, he thinks, his hand meeting hers when she holds her own out for him. "Sweet boy, what's wrong?" Her voice is gentler--somehow assumes she offended him, even though he's just lost in a moment of her warmth.
"Not--nothing," he says after a moment--there's an over-dramatic gagging sound from across the room, and Gilfoyle turns in his chair to survey the situation before turning back to his monitor and speaking.
"He's staring at you because you're pretty," Gilfoyle informs her--and Erlich could kick his ass, except they're sort of both with her and kicking her boyfriend's ass whilst also being her boyfriend would sort of put a dent in the plans to keep her around.
"Shut the fuck up," he goes with instead; glancing up at Tess--who's both feathered red cheeks and a curious smile incarnate, "don't get all...cute at me, I don't do cute before lunch."
Her laughter is like bells, and it covers a snap of thunder outside. "You do cute when I decide to be cute," she quips; thumb rubbing a slow pattern of a beat across his knuckles. A moment of movement, and she shifts to sweetly sprawl on him; like a meadow of flowers blossoming in the morning light--one instance of her absence, and then the whole world is sweet and full of color. "Y'really think I'm pretty, kitten?" that goddamn tone she uses--slow blink, curling of smile, "or is the rain makin' you all grumpy?"
She knows, and he could kiss her for it--opts instead to mock-shove at her before arms around her is a better-found choice. "Shut up," is his response--mumbled into the gold of her hair, he ignores the flash of lightning and instead pokes soft at her abdomen, "I think you're prettier than Gilfoyle's code, does that count?"
An indignant sort of snort from across the room, Gilfoyle rises at the mention of his name, and heads kitchen-wards for another drink. "Don't name-drop," he says as he passes them; fingers brushing Tess' own before up to gently tug at one of Erlich's errant locks, "I dazzle you, I dazzle her, that's like name-dropping Jay-Z to Beyonce."
"Dahling," Tess drawls, slow kicks a leg after him, "if you're Jay-Z to my Beyonce, who's Erlich?"
A unified, "Nicki," slips through the air--Gilfoyle, Dinesh, and Erlich respond like a tech-obsessed choir of sass and unrelenting pop-culture fortitude. Sometimes, Tess wonders if they share a brain--they don't share her, and that makes the hive-mind thing a little weird, sometimes. Dinesh--isn't necessarily part of her and the two boys, but he's around enough that he's almost like a brother, or a large, vaguely insulting puppy. It's good to be here, Tess thinks, especially with the rain.
The sky, however, isn't there to grant her peace for long--and just before everything in the house beeps and goes dark and still, Tess watches the connection of a surge of electricity from a distance directly to the house.
The silence is only prominent for a moment, at most--and groans fill the air shortly after; Erlich's the closest and most wounded of them all. "This is ridiculous," he moans at the ceiling, the grumpy whine to his voice back again, after it's momentary departure due to Nicki-humor, "your fucking rain broke the house. Again." He says it like an accusation--and Tess hums; brow raised as a grin threatens to paint across her face.
"My rain, huh?" Her voice is full of laughter--and Gilfoyle, amidst his grumble about having lost his code and Dinesh telling him that he's an idiot for not saving, finds his way to the window-seat that Tess has all but abandoned. He settles there; curled up like a sharp housecat--it's a zoo around here, and Tess sometimes wonders how she ever thought herself a dog person, when she fell in love with two of the most feline-esque people she's ever met. "It's my rain," she informs Gilfoyle--who most definitely heard the whole conversation, "I ought to be stoned in the street, for not controlling my rain better."
Erlich groans again, louder and much more dramatic--and she ignores him as her eyes light up with mirth, and Gilfoyle's half smile grows a touch. "Stoned, I can do," he tells her--and Erlich forgets his distress at lack of Wi-Fi for Candy Crush as Gilfoyle nudges at his calf with a point of toes, "can you do stoned?" Erlich catches his foot in a gentler touch than what it looks like, and tugs it onto Tess' lap--a perfect pile of at least parts of the bodies he prefers the company of.
"I, my dear Gilfoyle, can always do stoned."
"That's all he knows how to do," Richard hums from across room, accepting a stack of file folders from Jared, "that and yell at people about yogurt."
"It was the spoons!" is the response he gets--Tess, Gilfoyle, and Jared meeting each other in a perfect, indignant harmony.
"The spoons, holy shit," Richard holds up his hands in surrender, "you don't have to--fucking...jump down my throat--"
"That's not what she said," Erlich mutters--and the room curls into amused laughter, Tess swatting at his upper arm as she snorts. He means well--and that's what matters.