Re: In-person: Sam & Cris
[He can tell she's unsteady, but he don't say nothing. Just like he don't say nothing 'bout the weight difference or nonea that. He waits for her to join him, and once she's there, arms 'round his shoulders and her weight on toppa him, he ain't real restrained either. He drags her up more, closer, and he clasps his hands over her ass—or, least one. The other he uses to clear blonde from where it breaks outta hoodie and scrapes against her cheek.
His jaw is rough and unshaven, and he could use a shower, but he don't care 'bout nonea that either. Whiskey is sotted on his lips, on his breath, as he jostles the girl up closer, until her face is near his.—He don't say nothing. He hugs her back in a hard squeeze and he kisses her a lil too hard and a lil too needy, a lil too bruising, but blame the alcohol—, and just then he thinks, if he could do anything, he'd just wanna go lie down with Sam.
But, Stone is on her way and that ain't an option.]