Re: In-person: Sam & Cris
[He's on the sofa. Trackpants, camiseta—everything the same as earlier, 'cept he has shoes on now. The picturea Ian is stuck between iPad cover and screen, and said iPad is shoved beside laptop still open on the coffee table. He's a mess too—his hair is all over the place from tugging and pulling, and he has a plastic kid's cup out, half-fulla whiskey. But, he was smart enough to put everything else away when he figured out Sam was gone—besides that laptop. Anything that can be taken or pawned, that's worth mucha anything.
He hasn't eaten and nothing's cooking for once. The lights are off, the TV too, and he's on the sofa with the phone still held to his chest as he waits for Sam. And if it's weak for her to want that hug, he's even weaker, 'cause he can't even stand his fucking ground. Don't come. Stay safe. Never mind, come here, gimme a hug. Watch the kid, no, don't. Y así sucesivamente, waffling everywhere, 'cause he can't figure out what he's doing and so much is happening all at once.
He opens his eyes at the sounda footsteps and he sits up. His eyes are already accustomed to the dark, so he sees Sam easy, hoodie and yellow Docs, and he's stupid, but he smiles.] Hey, mami. [He makes room for her on the sofa between his knees.] Ven.