Bargain

"Promise me something."

"Sure."

"If there are things you can't tell me, just say so and I'll respect that."  I took a swig of root beer and looked him in the eyes, serious as ever.  "Just don't lie to me."

Tristan paused, stared back at me for a long moment, then nodded.  "I think I can do that."

"Good.  Because not only is it hurtful, but you would think that after nearly ten years of knowing me, four of those as a photo analyst, it's insulting to be handed fake photos passed off as evidence."  My words slipped out with a sting of venom, not out of anger but to make sure he understood how dead serious I was about this.  "As if I wouldn't figure it out."

I'd told Jake the same thing, and both men conceded that I had a valid point.  So Tristan and I struck a deal: I won't annoy him for details and he won't lie to me.  Which pretty much means our conversations will now consist of the words, "I can't tell you."

Lovely.