Re: [Webster's: Cris, Daniel & Sam]
Just speaking personal here, but if Cris saw death and it was a lil fielda stars and it fit in his palm, he'da felt more than grim wonder. He'da wondered if it had a head or tails, too. But, it was real clear that he and Daniel were, uh, different, huh? The guy was staring at him, unsmiling, like some kinda prophet or seer, saying what would happen—what did happen—when Cris used his... whatever it was on Sam. He wanted to laugh, the cornera his mouth quirked at the comment about aches and pains, 'cause Daniel mighta had centuries on him, but his body—Cris'—was older. You wanna talk about aches and pains, gringo, hit a real mortal forty first, huh?—But, Cris managed not to laugh or nothing at all the solemnity.
"Hey, it can't just be me getting old, huh? Makes a guy feel bad about himself." He teased real light, but he tried to make it clear he was listening. It was the worry though, clear on the gringo's face, that made him cock his head. And he got it. He could 'negate' somebody's vampirism or whatever in a second and they would be mortal. They could be shot and bam, a helluva lot easier than staking somebody. "I know, huh? I ain't told nobody. And even if they did find out my secret, I'd have to be willing, wouldn't I? Nobody can make me be that. And if I ain't, it don't work. But, I get you, mi socio." Not that nonea this was the point. Sam had wanted to do some kinda present or something. But, Daniel didn't seem inclined.
Cris looked to Sam and smiled at her. "Whaddaya think, mami? Should we leave the guy in peace?"