Maybe someone else, someone better, someone good would have taken that 'no one' and thought it the saddest thing she ever heard. Sam didn't. Envy sliced keenly and cold through her heart: having people, even one rat sonofabitch who was only ever comfort when he kept his mouth shut and his skin whole, having people was just having something you minded sore about losing.
But she was distracted, and she didn't think a whole lot on more people bleeding out to mop up after. The color had drained out of Sam's face, her skin stark and sallow beneath the hum of the hospital lighting. Without color, all that red hair made her look yellowish and pale and without a smile her features didn't add up and make themselves pretty. She bit her lip, rolled the fat of it in toward her teeth until she tasted blood.
"You go on," she said and she hadn't lost seconds while he'd been absorbed in his phone, she was thinking on the camp without a single person she knew she'd known before. Sam slid up on her toes, smelling of sweat and disinfectant and now of coffee, and kissed his cheek without thought. And then she turned tail and left, headed for the shower, strong soap and to put some of the shattered pieces back for another day of pretending they were held together.