Five things not in this story.

"Well this is boring," I say tapping the keys idly and listening to the clicks.

The laptop wobbles on my knees, unstable and heavier than I'll admit; every now and then Tyler lunges as if to catch it from a fall it never makes. And each time I bat his hand away with a tut. If I can engage in high speed chases, whilst being accosted by a writer, I sure as anything can use a laptop and not break it.

"Has it ever occurred to anyone that if we did these tasks when Mia asked we'd never be locked in the kitchen?" Braelyn the obvious pauses with her knife in the air. If it were anyone else I'd worry about the possibility of her missing the cucumber and slicing a finger. As it is, I stop tapping the keys and raise a brow. It's not worth an answer.

"So, aside from this huge string of nonsense here," Tyler gestures to the screen, "you know you've spelt misapprehension wrong, right?"

"Not helping." I sigh as I search and replace it. "We're zombie down, don't make me take you down too."

He purses hips lips, hands held behind his back, and nods. I'm not sure how I would go about taking him down to the state Adam is in, what with the glitter poisoning, but I could darn well give it a shot. And he knows it. Except either he can't resist another shot or he has short term memory loss.

"Irritate is spelt with and i," he says, leaning forward and covering my neck with the warmth of his breath as I type. "And it's "he and I" instead of that."

"If you're so up on language why don't you type?" I snap, flustered into saying something I immediately see as part of his plan. His eyes light up as he parts his lips into a smile.  Tyler can be just as much as a control freak as me sometimes.

"Finally." He snatches the laptop from my legs, sliding it to his as he sits. After a moment he scoots up beside me. To rub the victory in, no doubt, by letting me watch. "Now, let's start again because all of this stuff? Far too believable. You need some eccentricity."

"I'm not eccentric at all," Braelyn calls over her should as she deposits cucumber into the pan. Much to my disappointed surprise she has all ten digits still.

"You will be after I'm finished." He smiles, hitting the keys like he's playing a church organ. Even though the keys are clacking and thudding, he types surprisingly fast. "Alright. Number one? Raye is allergic to kiwi fruit and underwater hockey sticks. They bring her out in a rash."

"Ew." I wrinkle my nose. "No they don't."

"Do," he says. "And Braelyn? Well she likes to wear lavender dresses on a full moon only. Can't wear them apart from that."

"Wait-" Braelyn turns around, waving her wooden spoon.

"Number three and four," Tyler booms merrily over her voice. "Adam sleeps in a kimono and eats raw broccoli for breakfast."

"That's not even funny. Broccoli gives him nightmares." Braelyn's eyes are wide, as if letting in all the concern they can, but now it's not just Tyler ignoring her. I don't mean to, but I tend to oppose whatever she stands for out of principle. Everyone has to have a nemesis.

"What's five?" I lightly touch Tyler's elbow. He nods enthusiastically, still typing.

"Sometimes." He glances at me, and the cursor flickers on the screen in anticipation. "Often, you like to buy the dented packets from shops because you feel like they must be lonely."

I bite my lip, thankful Braelyn can't see my face and the colour that rises to my cheeks as he types. I hate somebody knowing me so well they can say the truest thing at a moment's notice. He knows me better than my anyone can, I think, and sometimes he likes to flaunt it.

"You forgot yourself." The pans clang as Braelyn chucks them in the sink. She's so innocent sometimes. So unsuspecting, unlike me. Tyler would do anything to hide his past and his secrets. This is just one tiny pebble of an example.

"Ha," Tyler says without much humour. "I guess I'm just a mystery."