antique store: sam & julia
Sam had never lost all those round vowels and hard consonants that came from home. Yeah, she'd added on Cuban Spanish, taking to it like a duck to water, but even that came heavily accented. Cheap sounding, yeah? She had the kind of Jersey accent that screamed about streets and alleys and bad living, and she paired it all with a cacophony of blonde and gappy teeth that were surprisingly fucking white. Her moms had always thought bad teeth and bad shoes made people wary, and pickpockets couldn't afford that kind of bias. So, yeah, good teeth and good shoes.
And, yeah, she looked over when the girl talked.
Sam knew there was someone in the store the SECOND she walked in. She knew Lou was in the back, and she knew there was someone out front. She knew that someone had a heartbeat like youth and blood that ran bright red and warm. She could tell youth, huh? It was so fucking weird, but she could absolutely tell if someone was young or old by the way their heart danced behind their ribcages. This girl was young, and Sam wasn't surprised to hear the voice.
What she HADN'T expected was for the voice to be familiar. She looked over at the girl in plaid, and it took like SIX seconds, huh? "JULIA? Oh my fucking GOD. What are you doing here?" And, Sam being Sam, she glomped the girl and pulled her into a hug. Ok, so she hadn't seen Julia in forever, but Julia = Charlie, and Sam missed Charlie like she missed ALL her brothers who were behind bars, yeah? Julia was kinda like an extension, and she got the tight hug in Charlie's place. "Lou owns this store." She pulled back. "Did Charlie tell you about Lou? OH! And Leo's here and Iris." She knew Julia still mailed and stuff with Charlie, and Sam kept Charlie updated, so she assumed Julia would know the names and shit.