Re: log: hospital - sam/louis
Louis didn't mind Sam mussing up his hair, especially not when it came with such a warm, strong hug. Seeing her smile like that, feeling some strength in her arms, it made him hope. He wanted hope.
He was always pulled together, no question, and he did take a small amount of pride in it. He liked to look nice, didn't feel right leaving the house as anything less than his best self, perhaps because he didn't think much of the self he presented, even then. Every pin, at least, should be in place.
The food was not healthy. Louis thought Sam deserved that and a whole lot more. It was also more than enough to feed two people, though he had no intention of eating anything himself. Cold fried chicken in a tightly rolled white paper bag, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, baked beans, corn bread, a box of breakfast pastries, a carton of chocolate milk. "No healthy stuff here," he said, with a real, small smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and said, I do know you.
He wrapped an arm around her waist when she leaned on him, and turned with her toward the hospital doors. It was surprising even for Sam how close she was clinging, but he didn't mind. "Feed her?" he asked, bemused. "Do you trust me? I don't know if I do." Good-humored, though, moving toward the elevator with Sam still very close.
"Hardly anything," he said, leaning away from her for a moment to press the button. "Really. The store has been quiet, though it's picking up a little now. Cris seems better, I think." He wasn't positive on that, but he hoped, again, that it was true. He seemed better, at any rate. No more bruised knuckles, not recently. "I could use a new mattress, I think the one I have is as old as some of the artifacts downstairs. And I think Oliver has become so taken with your store that he'll be staying forever. I haven't heard word one for him since he started working at Sonrisa."