AHS: Sam & Cris Who: Sam & Cris What: A visit Where: AHS Freak Show When: Nowish Warnings/Rating: It's Sam, so language and mention of drugs.
As promised, it was warm in the door that had remained still for the entire morning, long enough for Sam to tell Cris where to go or whatever. And she wasn't nervous. Yeah, no, nervous was this shit with Russ, where it was months fucking later and she couldn't figure out how to tell him who she was. This was taking the bull by the fucking horns and getting shit done. But this guy didn't know her or whatever, and that made it easier. Way fucking easier, because everyone in her life knew all her shit, and she was pretty sure they had her like on 24/7 watch, something to keep her from fucking up, even though she talked to them like once a month or something.
But, yeah, it was high 60s and sunny in 1952. Sunday, so Fräulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities was open during the day. Sam figured it was safe enough; shit didn't get fucked up and racy until after dark, and she didn't expect her visitor to stay that long. Anyway, hanging around the carnival wasn't what she had in mind. Too much fucking death there lately, and the last thing she needed was for him to get a bug up his ass about justice or something.
Yeah, no, she'd traded something sweaty for the use of a Lincoln in seafoam, and it was parked outside the carnival. She'd borrowed Desiree's shower, because showing up filthy and strung up would be kind of shitty. The woman took pity on her, and she lent clothing, did makeup, and Sam thought this fucking shit was ridiculous. She hadn't tried to look like anything but a junkie since Gotham and Neil, and that was something she was trying not to remember. But this was just a daytrip, and ok, so it wouldn't hurt to look decent in borrowed things.
She barely touched the needle that morning. Just enough so she wouldn't go hungry and antsy, pinprick between her toes, and she'd learned to hide the fucking tracks now. A clove between her fingers, she waited just inside the propped door that led to the storage trailer, bare feet, because fuck shoes. She was wearing a skirt, which was kind of a requirement to go out in public here, but no one would care about her feet where they were going. And, yeah, so she ditched the slip too, and bare skin peeked through the skirt past the white of the tucked-in shirt.