Chapter Text
Trinity's couch could barely support two people on a normal day; tonight it's straining under the weight of her coworkers sitting squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder. Other coworkers perched precariously on its armrests. Still others are standing around nearby. No one is talking except in quiet murmurs.
Everyone looks fucking confused.
Trinity clears her throat. "You might be wondering why you're all here."
Nods ripple through the crowd. Cassie, leaning against the wall toward the back of the room, half-raises her hand.
"You said you were finally getting rid of your shitty couch and needed help getting it down the stairs," she glances around. "I think that this is more than enough help."
"Totally overkill," Trinity agrees. "The couch stays."
"You told me you needed someone to watch your cat," Baran says, frowning a little. "You don't even have a cat, do you?"
"Oh! You told me it was a surprise party for Princess," Mel adds.
Princess scoffs. "It's June. I'm a Libra."
"I'm sorry?" Mel says, earnest despite inflection turning her apology into a question.
Victoria's fawn eyes are even wider than usual. "Can we actually go back to Baran's question? Um, you don't have a cat do you?"
"No cat," Trinity says, "And I think we're good to move on. Yes, I invited you all here under false pretenses—"
"—she told me this was going to be an orgy," Princess says, leaning to speak into Perlah's ear. Trinity points to her gamely.
"Hey, now," she replies, "the night is still young. Anyway," she clears her throat again, straightens her back. "I invited you all here under false pretenses. Why? As you might recall, recently, one Dennis Whitaker, hitherto known as Huckleberry, committed the ultimate betrayal to our friendship. As such, I am in the market for a new best friend. Each of you—" she gestures to the room, "has at some point in the last year and a half shown friendship potential. But before you get too excited, know that pretty much every single one of you has a lot of work to do before you can be my friend."
Samira glances around. "Why are none of the guys here?"
"Don't worry about it," Trinity says quickly. "Any other questions?"
"I've got one," Dana speaks up, "Is this like a contest? Something like that?"
"Something like that," Trinity agrees.
"To be your friend?"
Trinity nods. "To be my new best friend."
"Doesn't Whitaker still live here?" Cassie asks, still frowning. "He's just house-sitting for Robby isn't he?"
"So," Trinity says, looking away from Cassie. "The only real rule is that I won't make you do this if you don't want to. If you don't think we're friendship material, I won't be mad. I won't even watch you leave. But, if that's the case—" Trinity closes her eyes, turns to face the wall behind her, "—you should leave now."
She waits, listens as people shift in their seats, but after what feels like a full minute, the door to Trinity's apartment does not once open. She lets out a long exhale (she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath) and turns around. No one has left. Some of them even look surprised at themselves for staying, but, for the most part, eveyone is looking at her expectantly.
Trinity smiles as she looks around the room. No one left.
"Incredible," she says. "How about we do a little ice breaker? I know all of you to some degree, but I don't really know the friendship stuff. Let's do a little lightning round. Oh wait, fuck, I forgot my—" she runs back into her bedroom and grabs a stack of cue cards from her night stand.
"Back!" she says, and she's surprised that she's a little nervous. She shuffles the cards. "Okay, best ice cream flavour."
It takes the room a beat to catch on to what's happening, but then Mel pipes up with, "Mint chocolate chip."
"Perfectly respectable," Trinity tells her and she beams.
"I once had an ice cream that was corn-flavoured," Cassie says.
"Ew. No."
"Wait," Cassie says, "That obviously wasn't my actual answer."
"Too late. Chess rules."
Slowly, the others share their answers: cookie dough, black cherry, peach sorbet ("That's not ice cream, Crash."), double chocolate.
"Cookies and cream?" Samira says, last of the bunch.
"The only right answer," Trinity agrees. She shuffles through her cards again. "Oh. This one's important. Avocado: thoughts?"
"Just…our thoughts on avocados?" Dana asks, "I can't say I've ever thought about avocados enough to form an opinion on 'em."
"Like them a totally normal amount," Victoria interrupts, speaking quickly. "I can be left alone in a room with them. Um, I won't touch them if they're yours. Otherwise, happy to share."
Trinity looks at her, "That's an interestingly specific answer."
Victoria blushes. "I was listening to you talk about it. Remember?"
"Yeah," Trinity says, "But it's weird that you remember."
Victoria blushes harder.
"Okay, next question—"
"—I'm sorry, Trinity, but is there a point to these questions?"
Trinity looks up from her cards at Baran. "You mean, how am I keeping score? Don't worry. I haven't been assigning points yet. Well, I have, obviously. Just not officially. You will be able to formally earn and lose points through challenges, or, as I like to refer to them: dates."
"Dates?" Baran looks at her skeptically.
Trinity rolls her eyes. "Fine," she says, "friendship dates, if you're so needy for specific language." She tore her gaze from Baran and glanced around the room.
"Be sure to keep your phones handy over the next week," she grins. "I'll be reaching out to coordinate our dates. And I expect to be courted accordingly," she catches herself, rolls her eyes again and gestures vaguely, "as one would a best friend."
Feeling magnanimous, she rips her stack of cards in half and tosses them into the air. She only regrets it a lot that she hadn't started with the question about favourite sex positions. She'd desperately wanted to see Baran and Crash squirm for entirely different reasons.
"Let the games begin!" She announces, then frowns. "That sounded way less dorky in my head."