Re: coffee: sam & neil
Figuring out what the fuck he wanted to do with his life had been a regular discussion of theirs, and she really couldn't tell if he'd actually gone for something he liked, or if this was just more of the same uninteresting and mundane shit he'd only done in Vegas because his pops expected him to. Tedious didn't really sound like some great fucking goal to her, but he'd said he was content. She'd always wanted more for him than just being content, but she got the feeling he didn't really want anything more than that for himself. And was she being pushy if she insisted there was more to life than just being comfortable? Maybe that was just some need she had, yeah? To savor every last fucking thing, to never be bored. "If I ask if you're happy doing it, are you going to give me that bullshit line about being content?" she asked him knowingly. And she laughed when he so obviously refused to admit to being embarrassed. That dry line about mild disapproval turned the laugh into a smile, and she ducked her blonde head after he downed that coffee. "How about if I scream at the top of my lungs?" she threatened, teased, whatever. The smile was there in her voice, not budging.
But she drew back slightly to look at his face when he said he hadn't fallen off the wagon, inky blue eyes clear and deliberate. "But you're not ok. How close?" Had he come to taking a drink.
And, yeah, ok, she should wear the fucking bracelet all the time. "I don't want people looking at me like I'm sick or frail or something, Neil. Ok, so I am, whatever. But people tend to look at problems first, yeah? Junkie, suicidal, epileptic, and then they remember I'm a person." She gave him a smile. "I'm not suicidal anymore. Don't worry. I'll always be a junkie, but three meetings a week keep my ass good. At least for now. IDK how I'll do once the stress comes back the fuck in."
She watched him put the pencil down, and she waited for him to just say it, yeah? Whatever Meredith's fucking deal was, and she swung her legs and took the discarded pencil and added whiskers to his most recent feline. "Meredith isn't a fucking victim, Neil, and she isn't a fucking saint. She likes to pretend she's both, but she's just like the rest of us, yeah? I only care that she makes you happy. If she does? I'm cool with her." And, ok, so maybe this double date thing was a risk, but it could work out. "Yeah. A double date. IDK. Maybe. If he sees I'm trying to help you and Meredith work out your shit, he might feel better. And maybe it'll be less traumatizing to both of them if they see you and me can be in a room without tearing each other's clothes off." Toes against his thigh. "And she'll feel included, yeah?"