Re: AHS: Sam A & Cris M
She might not have been thinking about it, but it had occurred to Cris, the length of her shin almost entirely against him, the pair of them bent together like two ends of a magnet. He was aware of the picture being painted by the likes of the bartender, the dancers, and Santa Barbara. But, that wasn't what gave him pause. What gave him pause was the tumble of starless black bengaline silk-like fabric. He didn't stare, but it didn't go unnoticed.
"No. Just that people can get used to almost anything." He hadn't been calling her fucked up, actually. He'd just been drawing parallels. It made sense to him that coming out of a place like the hotel, being vomited back into the Real World—that it would be difícil, if not downright impossible to integrate back into. So, fucked up? No. It was just something that happened to people when they made their community where they were, ideal or not, prison or hotel or even hospital. But, he let her state that it hadn't been the hotel to fuck her up without interrupting with justification. Most people were, some worse than others, and he could have guessed—not in a bad way, just in that she was married off at 15, and so on. The fact that her life hadn't been all that good to her was established in his mind.
Her fingers twitched his tie out of place with that smile and Cris smoothed it back as he took a drag, the cant of black eyebrows enough to show his amusement. He stubbed his own cigarette out not long after, satisfied with the amount of poison he was ingesting for the moment. Warm fingers curled back around her knee as he reached forward for his glass through a drawn curtain of smoke.
She didn't fit. But that didn't fit, not with what he had, she had hermanos, she'd said. Why would she be camping out inside of the musty hotel basement?—The questions formed, but they never passed Cris' lips. He took a long drink of his havanero, drinking it down to an island of mint. He replaced the glass.
She painted. His smile was surprised.
"You're una artista," he said, like maybe it explained the lack of shoes. He flicked at the sole of the bare foot propped between his legs, but it was playful, and he nodded, like it was all coming together for him now.