Art won. It didn't really come as a surprise to you. He's not the same boy who played Patrick in the 2006 Junior Open. There's a world where the pressure gets to him, where the knowledge of his wife's infidelity the night prior is enough to make him fumble...

But, well, he also cheated the night before. With you, while your own husband was losing himself in Art's wife in the backseat of his Honda. Hey, it all cancels out, right? Both you and Patrick were aware of each other's transgressions. The matching bruises you sported from tennis' it couple went unspoken when you settled into bed in your motel room last night.

And then, again, when you were seated next to Tashi for the match. All that was offered was a nod of acknowledgement when her eyes flickered down to the mark on your collarbone, no doubt a reminder of your time with her husband. No, tennis is what mattered right now. This could be dealt with later.

... Later being now. Room 271, with Patrick sprawled leisurely on the bed without a care in the world.

"This place is fuckin' nice."

You have to fight back the urge to roll your eyes at him. Tashi does it for you, of course. The silence is... tense, to say the least. Years of unspoken tension between the four of you. Years of longing for each other. I wish things had turned out different. That's what all of you want to say. Patrick is the only one actually brave enough to find his voice, even if it's just to make some offhanded comment about the luxurious room the Donaldsons had booked for the night to hash this out.

"They're good, right?" He offers, eyes landing on a rather tense looking Art hovering by an armchair.

"What?" Art croaks out in reply.

"peri. C'mon, Art," he rolls his eyes. "Don't be shy." When he gets no reply, Patrick sighs. "Fine. I'll start, then. Tashi was great. We had an amazing time. Oh, when she did that thing with her—"

"Patrick," Tashi cuts him off with a sharp look.

He just smiles unrepentantly. You all know why you're really there, after all.