Re: In-person: Cris/Sam
[He don't try to shush her or tell her she's wrong. She lists off everything that's gone pear-shaped since last night. Joey's crying, and Cris reaches to brushes his fingers across the toppa her head, black hair curling there, more every day. He traces his touch over her eyebrows, unthinking, his gaze on Sam the whole time, on her wrists when they lift in illustration, and then on the card that's thrown to the floor and back. Her cheeks are colored high, but if she wasn't yelling, she'd prolly be too pale. Her lil jumper is loose on her. His fingers go from Joey to Sam's chin, and they're there when she cups his cheeks.] Listen to me, baby. [He pushes up her chin with a knuckle.] If it ain't okay now, it will be. It don't stay like this forever. [He steps on the card as he closes the last fraction of an inch between 'em. He's trying to be good and steady. He's trying really fucking hard.
His knee is killing him.] I know it's a lot. I'm overwhelmed too. But, I... I can't—But, we got each other, y—y—that's somethin'. [He's as close as Joey'll let him get, smelling like sweat. There's something more he wants to say, but he can't find it. Instead, he exhales shaky, a crack in his foundation he really wishes wasn't there.]