Re: Sonrisa: Sam A & Cris M
It wasn't like it was outside Sonrisa, with the kid, when time went syrupy, slow, with only him moving at a regular speed. It wasn't like that. Here, now, he just felt fuzzy, like his head was stuffed with cotton and it was pressing against the backsa his eyes, scouring them, making them hurt and making eyelids feel like lead. His muscles felt weak too, and that made him slow, achey like you feel the morning after a too-hard workout. He wasn't disjointed exactly, not like Sam. He just... he felt fulla gauze and cotton and cobwebs and his heart hurt so fucking much.—His reactions were a lil too slow, dulled, but he was present, huh? Just tired. He looked down at Sam as she gazed up at him with those blue eyes, her with her fingers shaking against his jaw.
"It's okay, amor." Cris might not call it fucking up, but she had made a mistake—the only thing was, it was something everybody did. Everybody stumbled, fell even, and the fog hadn't helped, huh? But, it wasn't the enda the world, not like she thought it was. He couldn't believe that, however much he hated himself there. It was selfish, that—hating himself, and he tried to shove it away, down, so he could focus on the gringa he had his arms around. "You didn't mess nothin' up. I'll get somebody to fix Iris' doors and I'll get her a chair. They're just things, baby."
She crammed closer, and even though there were tears rough in Cris' throat, he laughed. It was surprised, huh? I wouldn't go so far as to say 'delighted,' but it was a spark there in the dark that surrounded them. It prolly wasn't the time, but he shifted, so he could put a palm on Sam's belly, on the baby moving within, and he couldn't help the stupid smile she brought to his lips. He hadn't felt her move before—not in any way he was awarea. It coulda been sheer fucking desperation, to grab onto something like that, now, but it only took some pinpricka light on the horizon to let you know there was a lighthouse out there, huh? And whether it was pathetic or not, he was glad for it.
"¿Sentiste eso? She moved!" His smile didn't dim, not while he had his palm on the curvea Sam's belly, but he pulled it back after a minute, to push fingers over her cheek, streaking colors in flecks, and he dug fingertips into angel-wilda blonde. His expression waned back to threadbare, but there was at least something behind it now, huh? Stronger. Stupid as it was. "I know you think you're the reason behind everything bad, cariño, but you ain't. You'll say you started it, but you didn't make that fog." Cris looked hard and earnest at her, cindersa something burning in his pupils. "You didn't tell Meredith to tell me Ian was with you. It was just... too much stuff, all at once, pero, it's not all on you." He stopped. He bit his lip, like he really didn't wanna say nothing, but in the end, he confessed, sadness thick in his voice and his lashes coming together as he tried to look away. "I think I hurt Iris. With the chair. I guess it cut her cheek and her arm."