"I never said that insanity wasn't a reason," he pointed out, laughing, "but we're both insane."
Sam smiled. "I know you're tough. You make a pretty decent agent, too," he said, smirking, "but you're not a SEAL. For once, you're missing a good thirty pounds in muscles, and there's that little fat around the middle that you got going there."
He stared for a moment. "You believe it... just like you believe that we'll go home." He was the man of faith, but there were moments, when believing in G was easier than believing in anything else. "All right, so how do we find out what's going on and how do I help you? And I don't mean in general, but right now, how do I help you and the team? We have to find a way, because if I spend many more days stuck in this room, I might want to slit my wrists, even if I can't."
He looked down at the hand on his chest. "Hold your hand up." He tried to press his hand against G's, but it went through leaving him even more frustrated, but he refused to give up. He didn't know about comic books, but he knew that he could lie down on a bed. He reached up again, this time slowing down his movements, almost stopping when he got closer to G's hand and finally stopping as their hands came into contact. It was weird, because he couldn't feel anything, but at least they were touching. Sort of. "I might not be able to touch you, but I'm never letting you go, G. I... I need you , too. No matter what you think, this was never a one way street. I'm just as lucky to have you."