Re: In-person: Cris/Sam
[She frowns a little, even tho he doesn't sound like he hates her for martyring or whatever. But then she's trying to make sense of what he's saying about responsibility, even tho it's complicated and her head, heavy like it is, can't wrap around it good.] I don't think Lou and Iris do anything for attention. [She says it strong, defending her siblings. Alexanders, they do that, yeah? Well, SHE does. She has a feeling Iris and Lou wouldn't defend her so hard. Not that they don't love her, because she knows they do, but maybe it's different. And she looks guilty a little, yeah?] Lou needed me to talk. [Her voice warbles at the end, like thinking about Lou killing people again is just TOO MUCH right then, and she shakes blonde, like she's getting the thought out. Better to talk about the baby, yeah? Loving them, and she thinks Joey does. She's not so sure Joey won't hate her later, but just then? Nah, just then she doesn't.] She quiets up good when I walk with her now, or just talk to her some. [And Joey fucking screams at everything, so that's an accomplishment, and Sam's smile is proud-shy.
She can't argue, tho, that she'll feel bad after breaking Meredith's nose, or that she felt fucking awful putting Iris in the hospital.] I went to jail, yeah? For the Iris thing. Chloe called the cops, and they had to, even tho Iris didn't want to press charges or whatever. [But the ferris wheel, that makes a smile come back to her lips, bright, yeah? A good moment, and remembering it is another good moment.] I'm not sure we're ATV people, papi. [But her grin says she'll try it, yeah? She'll try ANYTHING.
And she isn't surprised when he says to put Joey in the drawer, but she stops his arm as reaches for his shirt.] You aren't supposed to be on your fucking feet, remember? [She stands, that patchwork skirt sliding down past thighs and knees, boots on the floor and the scent of lilac going with them. She puts Joey in the drawer, which she unhinges and sets on the floor, yeah? Safer that way, and the baby swaddled in that mustard knit atop manila folders. She puts her beanie on Cris's head, and she walks to the bag. There, she bends thoughtless and uncareful about her hemline, picks up the too-big gloves and slips them on.] You can look pretty and give me pointers from there. [She grins back at him gappy.]