Chrisjen watched Cotyar walk down the hallway towards the kitchen with his hands behind him, obscuring whatever item from her view.
“What the fuck is that?” Chrisjen asked.
Cotyar wore a shit-eating grin but feigned innocence. His eyes widened dramatically. “What’s what?” He walked past Bobbie, who was sat on a couch in the adjacent living room, pausing briefly to allow her full view of the object he held behind his back. Bobbie snickered, and she and Cotyar shared a conspiratory smile, which only served to irk Chrisjen further.
“It’s... a swear jar,” Bobbie laughed, as Cotyar placed the glass canister on the granite countertop, turning the label towards Chrisjen.
Chrisjen put her hands on her hips and glared at Cotyar, who continued smiling like he thought the sun shone out of his ass. Bobbie watched the exchange from across the room, barely containing her amusement.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Chrisjen spat. “This is my fucking house, and whenever Kiki and Suri aren’t around, I’ll say whatever I goddamn well please.”
“Just give up, Cotyar. She’s too chicken to even try,” Bobbie goaded them on.
“If you think I don’t know when you’re trying to get a rise out of me, Sergeant Draper , then you are sorely mistaken,” Chrisjen countered.
“Whatever you say, Madam Secretary ,” Bobbie deadpanned, dragging out each syllable of the formal title. Chrisjen rolled her eyes.
“Okay, kids. Kiss and make up or no recess.” Now both women glared at Cotyar, who continued to smirk.
“Hey, she started it,” Bobbie said, holding her palms up in surrender.
“Like hell I did!” Chrisjen sounded not wholly unlike a petulant child, and she knew it. Fuck .
Cotyar watched the two women incredulously. He reached down and pushed the jar towards Chrisjen with his index finger, coughing pointedly.
“Actually, technically, he started it.” Bobbie gestured towards Cotyar.
“This is true,” Chrisjen concurred. She folded her arms across her chest and stared daggers at him.
“Good thing that glare stopped being scary years ago.” Cotyar pushed the jar a few inches closer.
Chrisjen felt the distinct urge to swat the container off of the counter like an angry cat, but decided not to give Cotyar the satisfaction. Instead, she made a dramatic show of walking over to her purse, gathering some loose change, and dropping four coins into the jar, one at a time.
“Happy?” she jeered at him.
“Uh, Cotyar?” Bobbie interrupted. “Not to be a spoilsport, but you do remember she’s loaded, right?”
Chrisjen laughed heartily, anticipating her checkmate moment. Cotyar began to walk back across the kitchen.
“That’s the point,” he shot back, over his shoulder. “This is my vacation fund.”
Bobbie cackled wildly, high-fiving him as he passed. Chrisjen’s eyes narrowed, and she dropped another coin into the container. “You motherfucker.”
Cotyar shrugged, and called back without stopping, “I mean, you could technically be my mother.”
Chrisjen was unable to keep the smile from spreading across her lips. She met Bobbie’s eyes.
“Well,” the younger woman said, shrugging lightly. “He’s not wrong.”
Chrisjen shook her head slowly and tossed another coin in the jar. “What the fuck am I going to do with you two?”