Re: Capital: Sam & Cris
He didn't feel bad. He felt like he wasn't doing enough, and he felt like there was nothing he could do, and Cris wasn't good at having no control over stuff. He wanted to. He wanted to make it all okay and he couldn't. That bummed him out. Not Sam. She looked at him upside down and he smiled at her, even if that smile slipped when she talked 'bout loving the baby. "Sam, you ain't ever even held her. You dunno what you're like. It won't be some big rush, huh? You can't just be connected to something, somebody, especially when you're dealin' with all the hormone stuff still and everything hurtin', and you're still tryin' to wrap your head 'round her not being in you anymore. We looked at her for two minutes. You dunno what you're like." Cris was earnest. Not harsh, just trying to get her to see this wasn't a movie. That stuff didn't happen like it did on TV. "You ain't gonna mess up. You gotta give yourself a chance."
He puttered the chair to a stop, and he looked down at her, having straightened to stand after she turned. Least she looked kinda happy.—He smiled at her, and he wheeled them along to a stairwell. It didn't seem to have alarms on it or nothing, so he opened it, and ducked his head in, before pushing Sam through. It seemed empty. It was definitely cooler than the halls and a smoke detector had to be somewhere, but he didn't see one.
Sam got parked next to the wall, and Cris leaned bare arm against cement wall. He pulled out the cloves.
"We might hafta peel outta here, huh? Be ready." He grinned at her as he lit one, waving the smoke away, as he ducked down to let Sam take it outta his fingers with her lips. He stood and his expression settled more serious. 'I'm sorry you feel so guilty 'bout everything."