Re: In-person: Sam & Cris
[Cris don't think you can't be both at the same time—strong and fragile. He figures most people are a mix, depending on situations and context and alla that kinda stuff. But, just then, it feels like those cracks are taking over, running like rivers and tributaries along dusky skin, and he wants to hold Sam 'til his fingers are bloodless. 'Cause it is always one bad thing to the next, and he needs it to stop, prolly as much as she does. Maybe that's what the past couplea weeks have shown him—the past couplea weeks, young and old. He needs quiet. He's never been a guy who needed quiet before, he don't think, but he does now, and he wants it for Sam and for Teresita. He wants to take botha them and just go.
And the trutha that want is in the way he kisses Sam, like he don't wanna let her go, not even for this. His fingers 'round the Caridad are the same, and he's so hesitant to let go, even as the gringa works her grip against his, 'til she tugs the medallion free in hot gold.] I know. [More than reluctant. He brings his knees up beneath her, thrusting her up and against him, in a sorta sieve, but he can put his head against her chest, against la Caridad and he can say her prayer as Sam's heart beats for him. He sounds young, even if he don't realize it, when he says,] Desearía poder quedarme así para siempre.