Re: log: hospital - sam/louis
"There is a salad at the bottom," he offered, agreeably. "And I think coleslaw is technically vegetable based. And some fruit filling in the cake? So rest assured, I didn't think very seriously about your arteries."
He wasn't actually so terrified of holding the baby. He'd held babies before, passed off at family functions, but never one so closely related to him. Or so fragile. But he definitely, definitively was not nervous about it. Yes. "I'm glad they thought to pad the floor," he said, bemused.
Louis know that Cris preferred things in New York. While the quiet of Repose had done him some good personally, it was obvious that Cris wasn't built to live in a place like this long-term. What that would mean for the future, for Teresa, he didn't know. It didn't seem like they were going anywhere now, though, not with the store, not with all the bad history in New York, and he saw the flicker of guilt on Sam's face. It was never easy when two people would both prefer to live on opposite sides of the country, and there was no easy solution for it. Someone was going to need to sacrifice. They would work it out between themselves - Louis only hoped that would happen without someone turning bitter.
"Yes ma'am," he said, walking behind Sam into the nursery. The mattress wasn't the real problem, obviously, but he wasn't going to bore Sam with stories about phantom broken glass and mild insomnia. Talking about not getting enough sleep was almost as boring and banal as talking about one's own dreams.
He forgot about sleeplessness or New York or even his worries for Sam when he saw the tiny baby in her ridiculous knit hat. He smiled, then, like a sentimental idiot. "Hello," he murmured, to the tiny (healthy looking) child in the crib. Thank god for that.
He looked at the burping cloth for a moment before realizing it went over his shoulder, so he slung it there and peered into the nursery, waiting for a moment before realizing it was probably alright to pick Joey up. Very, very carefully. So he did so, sliding both hands under the one-hand sized child, cradling her in his arms like she was made of papier-mache. She was very tiny, and very warm. "I'm paying Oliver," he said, just loud enough to be heard. He was - Oliver's salary was still being paid by the estate, just as it had been when he was working for Louis. "Or, I thought I was."
Then he turned his attention back to Joey. Her hat was sliding down over her eyes, so he pressed it up carefully with one long finger. "Hello," he murmured, again, beaming down at the tiny baby in his arms. Lord. He was going to make sure he did not break this child in the next few minutes if it killed him.