sam evans ( werewolf ) . (tamest) wrote in light_of_may, |
Why couldn't he? It was best to just keep on avoiding that subject. That wasn't why he was here and it certainly wasn't important. The question of why was his own problem, not theirs, and if it turned out that they couldn't -- or wouldn't -- help him then it would be his to solve as well. Sam was the one who had run all the way out here, travelling what had to be almost two thousand miles without any money to speak of, so it was his mess to clean up if this didn't work out. He would have to figure something out for himself. If these wolves wanted nothing to do with him then that would be that and Sam would be on his own.
Or he could go back. But the less he thought about that -- at least until absolutely necessary -- the better.
He still wasn't sure what to do with his hands and they had the slightest shake to them now, he realised. Sam chewed the inside of his bottom lip, trying to figure out what to do with them, where to put them, before he ended up just lowering them to his sides. If nothing else that was a little less uncertain, and therefore ought to make the male in front of him feel a bit better. It didn't help Sam's anxiety though and he could feel the small tremor hadn't faded. That wasn't important though. Not right now. The female was speaking again then and he let his eyes come up to meet hers, once again only for a moment, before he gazed off down the street, almost as if he was looking for something without really looking. It was more than he was trying to find something to fix his gaze on that wasn't his shoes, because when he did that it tended to muffle his speech and the others had never liked having to ask him to repeat himself. "His name is--" Sam hesitated. Did they really want to know? Was this a test of some kind? There was only way to find out, really, so he cleared his throat a little, quietly, and cautiously said, "August Summers."