sam evans ( werewolf ) . (tamest) wrote in light_of_may, |
They'd had plenty of storms in Montana, enough that he should have been used to them by now, and really it was just the suddenness -- and loudness -- of the sound of thunder that got to him. The unannounced flashes of the lightning didn't help. Easily startled and naturally skittish and jumpy as he was Sam had never managed to get used to storms like the one raging outside now, as much as he might wish, deep down, that he had. Maybe one day he would get used to them. Maybe. He didn't expect that he would, they were so loud and bright and violent but more than one of the Summers had told him anything was possible, hadn't they?
The idea of eating more than just the sandwich was a confusing enough one to make Sam's brow furrow, his gaze dropping and turning back to the plate upon which the meal sat. All his life he'd been given enough to get by, no more, no less, though some might argue it was less. There wasn't exactly a lot to him in terms of meat and certainly not muscle. "Oh," he said when she mentioned a drink. "Yeah." Her mother had said much the same and reminded him -- Sam had lost count of how many times she or someone else had said it -- that he could help himself to anything in the fridge. "What should I take?" he asked before he realised what he was doing, his mind thrown into a conflicted mess when one half told him it was rude to ask questions and the other tried to remind him that August had said it was okay to do so. Sam couldn't keep everything straight and so he ended up just dropping and averting his gaze, hoping he hadn't offended her.