sam evans ( werewolf ) . (tamest) wrote in light_of_may, |
For fellow weres, especially wolves, Sam was easy enough to read, at least physically. Emotionally and mentally was another question altogether. On some level Sam knew he was confusing to a lot of people, that the things he said and did didn't make much sense to others but he couldn't help the way he was, he couldn't change who and what he was and wouldn't even know where to start if it occurred to him to try. The fact that no one here had asked him to do that was a relief even if it hadn't really crossed his mind that they might do so. Wolves didn't expect others of their own kind to change, after all. Never mind that the others in Montana had forced him to change.
It hadn't crossed Sam's mind that the moon might have something to do with why he'd had so much trouble sleeping. He'd had nightmares, that much he did know and he was no stranger to them, but it hadn't even occurred to him that the full moon might have had an influence in some way. His brow furrowed a little, his eyes narrowing in a quiet but clear expression of confusion, betraying how little thought he'd given the matter. "I don't know," he said when he realised Jo had been asking him a question and that meant he should respond. Answer it. Answer her. That was the right thing to do, the polite thing to do, and one of the things he'd been taught and had reinforced over the years. Speak when spoken to.
Being offered things was against everything he'd been taught for more than a decade, he struggled to understand why anyone would offer him something when he'd spent most of his life being told he would get what he was given and ought to be grateful for that much. Sam blinked in another quiet show of confusion when Jo said she'd make him his favourite. Favourite? Did he even have a favourite? Stepping forward, away from the foot of the bed and toward Jo's outstretched arm, he said, "I-I don't know what that is." Someone who had essentially survived off the leftovers and scraps rejected by the others wasn't like to have a favourite. "What's yours?" he asked then, since it seemed much more likely that Jo would actually have an answer.