Re: In-person: Sam & Cris
[He doesn't need to ask twice. She can't see him good, eyes still accustomed to the hallway's muggy light, and then the lakehouse, and the candles she lit there. So, yeah, the dark looks really dark to her, and she can't see him good. But she can make him out there, the shape of him, and she's moving off those shuffling feet before he even says hey, before he tells her to come.
Her gait isn't as good as it was young, or even before, and maybe that should indicate something too, tell her something about the distance between head injury and that moment, physically, yeah? At least that, but she's not thinking good. She's clearheaded, no cotton, no hallucinations, no things in shadows only she can see, no weakness threatening to overtake her. But the weeks of feeling good, it makes it hard for her to spot the differences. But, yeah, her gait is off a little, unsteady-slow, even when she tries to move fast.
But that doesn't stop her from kneeling on the couch, between his thighs. And she should be restrained, maybe, and she knows he's pissed, and she's pissed at herself. But fuck it, because none of that matters once he's close enough for her to grab onto, and she doesn't just that. Kneeling between his thighs, ass against the heels of those Docs, and she throws her arms around his shoulders and literally just inhales hard against the side of his neck.]