In-person: Sam & Cris
[She hangs up, and doesn't waste time changing or anything, fixing herself up, though she wants to. But she knows he only has a few minutes, and she just wants to fucking hug him, which is weak or something, but whatever. So, yeah, she trusts him to have the lights off, and she just goes as is. Even still, it takes a few minutes, because she aches, yeah? She can't even explain it, why it feels worse, and she doesn't get it's the fact that NOTHING hurt before, so this feels worse. It's not really, though. It just feels bad. Really fucking bad.
She walks in, hoodie pulled over messy hair, features shadowed, a white shirt underneath and jeans way too loose. She looks younger than she was before this whole age down thing, a few years, yeah? Not so much, and maybe she'll figure it out later, understand what her scars being back means. But not then. Then, she just walks in and stands there, shifting from foot to foot in his dark living room, shoes those yellow Docs worn and scuffed and bright, even in the darkness.]