Sam shrugged. There hadn't been a lot of extra money in his family for fun things like films and DVDs, or even just rentals. "Dunno. Just never did." He watched intently as the blokes invaded a courtroom, and he gave an internal laugh as he thought of something like that taking place on Law and Order or something. McCoy would have been really fucked off.
"'f you say so," he started to say, but he didn't finish, as he was silenced by a hand gesture. He listened to the long speech and prayer, blinking again as the bloke was shot in the back of the head by three guns. That had to hurt. Or not. Maybe it was so fast, it didn't hurt at all. He always hoped for that.
The thought sort of startled him into focussing more, and he realised his fingers had kind of been moving in Jesse's hair. Scratching, almost, like with a cat. He quickly moved his hand away, though that movement was enough to send his head into fuzzy fits, and he didn't quite get around to moving out from under his friend. He didn't actually care, he realised with a small bit of shock. He was comfortable enough.
"It's not a real accent. It's a Scot trying to be Irish, and ending up as neither. It's like somebody from, uh, Brooklyn trying to be from Georgia or Alabama or something, and still not getting it right." Whatever. It made sense in his head.