Re: In-person: Cris/Sam
[She's two months now, the baby. Heavier, but still small enough to carry easy, and Sam watches his fingers trace tiny eyebrows and curls. Sam tries to breathe better, to breathe easier, yeah? It's never good when they're both feeling too much at the same time, and she knows that. She knows she's gotta tamp it down, but she can't fucking figure out how. Lou is KILLING people, and D is WHO THE FUCK KNOWS, and Iris might be DEAD. She doesn't even fucking know if her sister's dead, and then Meredith has to be dealt with, yeah? It's a lot, and she somehow needs to shut it all off. She needs to just fucking STOP, and she wants a hit. Dumb, yeah? But months of work, and she just wants enough to mellow her and make this ok to deal with, to not ride the roller coaster. And her therapist would say she needs to just ride it out, but the fucking therapist doesn't GET IT. She needs to not be selfish. She needs to not be selfish. She can do this, yeah? Not be selfish.
He pushes her chin up, and she exhales hard, like breathing will get all the toxins out. She knows he shouldn't be standing, and he probably shouldn't even be punching that bag. Her fingers move from his cheeks, and she lets them slip over his sweaty biceps.] Sit down for me, yeah? Sit down, ok? You shouldn't be standing like this. [She takes his hands, lifts them to her shoulders, and she tries for walking him backwards to one of the chairs pushed aside.] Lean, yeah? Don't be stubborn. [She can do this. Calm, yeah? Calm. Nothing's bad. Nothing's bad.]