Re: Log: Meredith/Sam
[Sam heard the fumbling, but she didn't pay any fucking attention to it. Someone could help Meredith off the fucking floor. She didn't even fucking turn, and she would have walked right the fuck outside, shaking hands and she was sure Rodin would be losing his shit if he was there with her. But then Meredith just had to fucking talk, yeah? She couldn't stay down there, crying like Mother Fucking Teresa or something.
Sam heard the approaching feet, but she didn't fucking turn. She kept fucking walking. Fuck this. Fuck this bitch. But the hand on her shoulder? Yeah, that changed all that. All Sam's good intentions flew way the fuck out the window, and she spun unsteadily. The trails of light in the bar danced around her, and the the redhead's mouth was layered on itself, like the woman on the fucking television. Sam blinked, but it didn't do fucking shit, and Meredith's words, man. Meredith's fucking words...]
You are SO. FUCKING. NARCISSISTIC. I wasn't proving some point. I'm worried about Neil. I care about NEIL. I don't give a shit about you. I don't want to make a point with you. If you weren't with him, I'd cross the fucking street to avoid your stench, ok? But you ARE with him, and you're here, getting drunk off your ass, and dragging your stinky fucking pores home with you for the already upset alcoholic to sniff. Oh, yeah, and why is he upset? BECAUSE YOU HAD TO BLAST YOUR SHIT TO EVERYONE like a selfish little whiny baby. [She shoved back, another hand to Meredith's fucking shoulder, and a shrug of her own fucking shoulder to go with the shove.] I care about what you're doing to him. I could give a fuck less about you.
And I leave when I fucking WANT TO, bitch.
[Another fucking shove, because that shit felt good, ok? Shoving right now, it felt really fucking good. She turned again, fucking defiant, and walked toward the door first.]