Re: Dinner: Cris/Lou/Sam
"Will it?" he asked, a little bemused. It was light enough, though. He didn't see a reality in which visiting his biological parents was 'hella fun,' but Sam did. On a separate note, he liked imagining a future where he could travel cross-country and no one worried about whether it was safe for him to be in an enclosed space miles above the earth with a hundred other people. "No, I'm joking. I'll go if you'd like to."
Well, dinner had been peaceful while it lasted. Louis ate while Sam talked, managing to down half his glass of wine and a good amount of the pork (which was delicious, by the way) while she affirmed that she would do what she wanted. It didn't take a rocket scientist to anticipate Cris' reaction to that, or the non-equity of him sending Oliver to her when she was pregnant and her working at his shop when he was possessed, or embodied, or whatever.
Truthfully, he knew he didn't need to make an argument, because hell would freeze over before Cris let Sam be alone with him. Even so, Cris' reaction was even harsher than he expected, and he kept his eyes on his food. He didn't need to look up to feel Cris' eyes on him, and he didn't answer when Cris bored holes into the top of his head with his stare. Sounds nice. Nothing. Sanguinely, he continued to eat his dinner.
By the time Cris was suggesting baby monitors, Louis was finishing the last of his food, putting it all away quietly and in record time. It was hard not to get the sense that this was a glimpse of a younger Louis, the quiet, awkward teenage version. Here was the best way to get out of an awkward family dinner - let the talk fly over your head, finish your food, stay under the radar, and get out as fast as possible. The only signs he was still listening to the conversation were the high points of color on his cheeks, flushed against the pale. If asked, he'd no doubt blame the wine. He looked up and glanced between them, as flatly as if he'd been in another room while they were arguing, and he picked up his glass again, finishing it in a long swallow.
When Cris pointed out that a panic button would at least prevent Sam or Joey from being flayed alive, Louis stood up, picking up his empty plate, used napkin, and empty wine glass. He also plucked up the half-full bottle of merlot, carrying it under his arm. "A panic button might not be a bad idea," he said, on his way to the kitchen. He threw away his napkin, ran water over his plate.
He didn't let fly any of the number of apologies or defenses crowding behind his teeth. He wasn't in the mood to be accused of martyrdom or weakness this evening. He acknowledged that it wasn't fair of him to be frustrated with anyone right now, not when his presence was putting everyone around him at risk.
Finally, after everyone was finished, he managed to say something of substance.
"I'm not going to be anywhere alone with anyone." He carried his glass and the bottle past the table. "Not Sam or Joey, not Oliver or Hunter. I'm just staying here for one night, I don't intend to be anywhere anyone else is without at least a third person present. I know, Cris, you asked me here because you thought it was safer for me to be where other people were, but you made your own counter-argument very well. I shouldn't stay long-term, not considering the risks."
He picked up his bag, and moved through the door, into the guest room. "I'll dial your number in advance and call it if anything happens during the night. I don't think it's likely unless someone breaks in, but it'll do in a pinch. And I'll lock the door. And Sam, you're not working in the shop. I can more than take care of things on my own. It's no more fair to put you at risk than it is to put Hunter at risk, is it? If Hunter can't be there because it isn't safe enough, then you can't.
"Leave the dishes," he said. "I'll wash them later. Now, if neither of you mind, I'm going to lie down for a little while. I haven't been sleeping well. You know." A thin smile, and he shut the door and locked it.