sam evans ( werewolf ) . (tamest) wrote in light_of_may, |
That kind of encouragement, the sort that Jo seemed so determined to direct his way so regularly, still made so little sense to Sam that it was all he could do to keep from tilting his head much as a wolf might when confused. It wasn't uncommon for him to utter the sounds a wolf might, either, and he had to swallow one then, a small one that an animal like the one that dwelled within him might unleash when they didn't know how to process a situation. What exactly Jo was trying to do still didn't register with him properly, it was so alien and unusual that she might as well have been speaking in a foreign language for all that he understood her. Something so simple and positive shouldn't have been so overwhelming but it was for Sam, and likely would be for a very long time to come.
When she told him what it was she was doing -- what she was drawing, he realised -- his eyes briefly flickered up towards her, meeting hers just for a split second before lowering again, his brow furrowing gently. Him? She was drawing him? Why? That question was written all over his face even before she explained her reasoning to him but even then he didn't understand it. There was a part of his brain that heard her use of the word pack though, and the frown actually deepened for a moment, his gaze dropping to his knee, his hand, and then wandering the crowd nearby as if he was suddenly uncomfortable. And he was. Sam didn't know what to do with things like that. Acceptance, encouragement, kind words. "You've drawn everyone else?" he asked her after a stretch of silence, realising after several moments that it had gone too long with him not saying anything and that was disrespectful when she had been addressing him directly.