Sam chuckled at her joke about the wine, smiling and shrugging a shoulder when she apologized for not having better food to go with it. "It's okay. You weren't expecting me to bring it," he said, smoothing a hand through his hair again and moving a bit farther into the cabin. He noted a book on the couch and figured she must have been sitting there, so he sat in a chair to give her a bit of space. Mostly for her benefit, but not entirely. He didn't want to let himself think the wrong thing. She was a nice girl, and nice girls tended to get hurt when they surrounded themselves with him.
As much as he tried not to, he found himself watching her movements. They were fluid, but not forced. Something about European women, Sam realized, made them look all that much more unattainable to a guy like him. Not that Sam was trying. He knew better than that.
Nodding along with what she said about not having decorated her cabin, Sam shrugged. "It still looks better than mine," he said, chuckling softly and turning his eyes away from her, so not to make it obvious that he'd accidentally been staring at her. Yeah. Smooth, Sam. Real smooth. "Maybe it's more personalization that decoration," he pondered aloud, leaning forward and grabbing the glasses from the table, holding them up for her to pour.