Re: Quicklog: Vegas, Sam & Mere
[It was impossible to miss the fact that Cris didn't talk. Sam didn't know him deep, and that week spent together as kids was like the preface to the man crowded up beside her, but she could already tell he wasn't someone lacking for words. So, it was impossible to miss the fact that he didn't talk. And he was crammed up against her, and it wasn't sex. Nah, his closeness wasn't like the couch and his overheated living room. His closeness was like smushing herself up close to Joey, back when pops would come home wasted. It was like that, and it wasn't heat, and he'd told her about being uncomfortable, but she hadn't understood it was so bad. It was her own experience tainting it, yeah? She never WANTED sex with Al, but it was a duty, a responsibility. But she never wanted it, not like heat or anything, so she thought what he'd described about him and Meredith was the same. Obviously, it wasn't.
Ok, so she tried to think of an excuse for him to get out of the room. She thought while she talked to the woman standing there blind, and Sam's voice sounded younger, clearer, no drug slowness, and her language a lot more kid friendly than it would be in later years.] This place isn't bad, Meredith, but it's not the best. I was thinking we'd get a place in New York. I never been in the heat like this before, and it's gross, yeah? Cris said we could go find a place around where he's at, just for you and me. I'm from Jersey, and that's close to there.
[And she wasn't cunning or conniving, Sam, not young, not old, and the best she could ultimately muster was a coughing fit that would probably convince no one, but she put all her heart into it, yeah? Face going red from it.] Can you find me something to drink? [To Cris, yeah? So he could bail out if he needed to, and still keep his pride. Sam was married to a Cuban guy, and she knew all about machismo and pride.]