From where Sam sat, it looked like, Joe the bartender at Sheeper's was attempting to hit on a woman, who seemed as if she wasn't sure if she should be repulsed or intrigued. Sam shrugged and thought it was ironic that the mackdaddy of the western seaboard was a guy who looked like he was barely five, two and couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds soaking wet.
He grinned as he took a swig of his beer and turned to Rogue, "Nah, we haven't. How you holding' up? You okay havin' her in yor head? He thought of having his mother's voice in his head all day long. Awww hell, nah, he thought.