Heather had been sitting on the couch, one leg curled up underneath her rather comfortably now that her stitches were gone, with her computer resting on her lap. In spite of the fact that the version of Sam that she'd been talking with lately wasn't the same one she'd known since arriving, Heather couldn't ignore him. She couldn't stop herself from replying to something he'd said, and she most definitely couldn't stop herself from solidifying the deal she'd thought up. Was it a smart thing to do? No, not at all, and she knew this. But a part of her, maybe a far too confident part, suspected that if anyone could make this Sam cut back on killing, even a little, it was her. She wasn't afraid of him the way she probably should've been for numerous reasons, and she was willing to do absolutely anything to make sure that when the real Sam made it back, there would be very little for him to blame himself for in some roundabout way.
Upon suggesting that he visit her, she hadn't been expecting him to just waltz right into her apartment. She jumped when he entered, Cricket beginning to bark and go absolutely crazy when this strange version of someone she'd been attached to entered the room. There was no friendly greeting from the dog. She could sense the difference.
"Come in?" she said with a furrow in her brow, sitting up and closing her laptop.