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Parker didn't say anything at first. He folded his arms and glanced out to the waves, sliding the broken mirror back into his pocket. He'd have to deal with that later. The water glistened under the hazy sunlight, and Parker took a deep breath.

"No, not stupid," he said, scratching at his neck. "Just crazy."

Parker wasn't exactly kidding, but he smirked like he was. "Bloody Mary isn't real Tate." Yeah, he wasn't making this better. "My neighbor when I was little had an imaginary friend who lived in the mirror. It was his own reflection. Always struck me as exceedingly narcissistic." The wind picked up, cool and light, across the sandy beach.

At some point, Parker would need to actually say something useful, something to tell Tate it was good that she told him this when it was clear she didn't want to. The only problem was thinking of what exactly to say. It was strange to be afraid of mirrors, but then again, he was afraid of fire. Who was to say he wouldn't have reacted just as strangely if she had thrust a lighter in his face?

Whatever pleasantness had existed before was tarnished now. The encounter had taken a strange turn, and Parker wasn't sure where to go. He dropped his hands to his sides and started to move back to his shoes. "It could be weirder. You could be afraid of birds. Or shoes. Or... shampoo." He sat in the sand and started to brush off his feet. "Or the color yellow. The number thirteen."

Parker had no idea what the extent of her fear was, or why it was there, and in the glow of the sun, he wasn't sure how to ask that either. Maybe she was just super insecure about her appearance? Either way, Parker was dumbstruck and faltering in conversation.

The mirror bothered Parker too, but for different reasons. He was bothered that this mirror had been damaged because of who it belonged to and what that person meant to him. Parker had been so content in his narcissistic shell of cynicism. Dani had cracked it, but it would take more than that to change Parker. He felt aimless, wandering, like he had nothing to do with his life other than read the great works of others and long to share his voice alongside.

Without college, how could that happen? Without a steady job, how could he survive?

This was depressing. Just like the broken mirror. "It's a customized mirror. It has," he pulled it back out to flash the non-reflective side bearing Dani's initials, "this on it. I don't even know where to go to look to replace it." His voice rasped with annoyance, and he shot Tate a glare for bringing up his cut.

The cut she had caused. Sigh. Parker had heard that sticking it in salt water could help, but his shoes were already back on. There was a bathroom up the dunes that he could pop into to rinse it off anyway. "I'll be fine, Dr. Tate," he said, though he knew she was right about the salt water.

It was hard for him to make sense of her sudden mirror phobia, and he was too annoyed to show much concern now. Parker got to his feet and dusted off his pants with his un-cut hand. "Well, that explains one thing," he said, tucking the ad papers back under his arm. "You look like s**t all the time because you're terrified of mirrors. Makes perfect sense." Parker didn't smile, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. Whatever this was, he seemed done talking about it. He had Dani's broken mirror on his mind now.

Parker started to walk up the beach toward the hard concrete that provided the transition back to industrialization.

The mirror sat heavily in his pocket, the weight a constant reminder of his guilt. Tate was probably right about just fixing the reflective part. "It's probably hard to fit," he said, dismissive. Parker didn't want to give her the satisfaction of helping. He didn't really intend to take her money either. This mirror was part of him and Dani. It was... an in. It was an excuse to talk to her, maybe.

Ever since his nightmare, Parker had wanted to talk to her, but swallowing his pride was not as easy as he'd expected. Parker still felt like Dani had violated his trust, but he also knew that he didn't care enough to let it keep her from him forever. He just wanted her to know it was wrong. Had this silence done that? It only made Parker lonely. Maybe he could go to her under the pretense of apologizing for the mirror. Maybe that would be the facilitating motion that they needed.

Tate punched him, and Parker snapped out of it, rubbing at the spot. "Kein...duh...ness? What is this foreign word?" He smirked and tossed out the container of Mongolian beef into a nearby trash can. "Zach likes you anyway, mirror-less upkeep and all. Guess he has different standards." Parker was done giving her s**t. For now.

The sun started to peek from behind the clouds, scattering warmth across the cool sand. But Parker and Tate were already gone. They headed back to the subway side by side, and Tate managed to find a reason to punch Parker four times during the walk.

Ah, friendship.