Re: Sonrisa: Sam A & Cris M
He hadn't wanted to tell her 'bout the guy. Not 'til she was a lil more level. And he'd fucked up. He fucked up, trying to make a point, and she reacted the way he woulda expected, huh? Getting up, pulling away from him, and she started pacing, hands to her head, no, no, no, no, no. Cris, covered in all her paints, stood too, and he set himself on a course, brief as it was, to collide with Sam.—He put his hands up, over her temples, to stop the strikinga her own palms, and he was in fronta her, huh? Bodily. She couldn't pace. He wanted to let her, but not if she was just gonna knock herself out in the process.
"Listen to me, Sam." He said it close, right there, and if she wavered, he didn't. And it was kinda funny, huh? It was funny, ironic, whatever, after what she'd just said, 'bout him always taking carea her and not her him, 'cause she was too messed up in the head. He couldn't express his own feara himself, what he might do, or this happened.—Cris didn't blame her for it. Not like you think. It wasn't faira him to tell her anyway and he shouldn'tna. But, the irony was there, copper on his tongue, and he just exhaled before he spoke. "I didn't do it. You're gonna hate yourself, 'cause you think you got me there. You called the dealer. You freaked me out. Sam, you didn't put the gun in my hand. You didn't, even if you think you did. You didn't cause every last thing that's happened. And the fact remains, nena, I didn't fuckin' do it. Just like you didn't stick 'round for him to come with your stuff." He jostled her a bit, hands on her head, trying to get through to her. Not hard. "¿Entiendes? 'Cause we're better than we think we are. 'Cause you can make a mistake and recognize it as that, and try and fix it. 'Cause we don't gotta be what our brains or our addictions are tryin' to make us. God knows we slip. I broke his nose. Pero—don't you see? Six months ago, would you be able to split, if you'd called a dealer? Hm? Don't think about what coulda happened, just say yes or no."