Re: Elevator
She would have been defensive, had she know all those right conclusions he had come to, but she didn't know, and the Blue was making her feel like maybe the world could fucking be ok again, like it had been when she'd first gotten to Las Vegas, before things got complicated. Sin city had been freedom then, when there wasn't a bad taste in her mouth yet. "Then you're really that bored?" she asked, all lazy press forward of hips, her shoulders in an almost-slouch against the reflective surface. "That must suck. Life is for living, baby, but I have yet to meet someone with a silver spoon that wasn't wrapped in I don't give a shit."
The elevator doors opened, and she pushed away from the wall and grabbed a hold of his lapel as a she passed him, tugging with burn-calloused fingers. She smelled like smoke and metal and something unexpectedly floral, and she pulled with enough force to indicate a lack of softness in the muscles of her arms beneath that tiny little shrug. "My mom called me Sam, and my dad called me Sam, and I every last person I've slept with has called me Sam. Pretty sure that's my name, baby."