Re: log: sam, russ, and louis
Sam remembered Lou as a pale thing in a mob house, because that was the last time she could remember seeing her brother. Maybe there were days after that or whatever, but she didn't remember. Everything was a fucking blur when her aging rollercoaster began, and all she knew was she associated him strongly with Neil. Neil who wasn't fucking here, and who'd she lost before he ever fucking disappeared. It was a sobering thought, and it carried the fucking loneliness of her family falling to shards with it. So, yeah, she drew back from the hug with concern in her eyes. He did look like shit, and she was lucid enough to notice that flicker of fear, which she didn't like at all. Lou wasn't big on fear, not for himself, and she needed to ask Shane if he'd taken him to see a doctor during that insomnia shit or whatever. Because, yeah, she hadn't actually missed as much as he thought she had.
She tossed herself down on the couch, and she didn't make a move to collect the beer or wine Lou mentioned. She waited for Russ to make for a bottle but, yeah, no didn't happen. He leaned against the wall, and she laughed. "He did that in Victorian London too," she said, thumb in Russ' direction and no notice that shit might be weird with them.
"Sit your ass down, yeah?" she told Lou. "Stop being hostess or whatever, and tell us what you're up to," she said, crossing her legs beneath herself on the couch. "Russ, sit the fuck down," she added easily. She almost cursed in Spanish, because she was used to the language of home these days, but she caught herself halfway through a fond coño in the big, bulky blond's direction.
She slid her attention right back to Lou, and she was all gap-tooth curiosity as she leaned forward, elbow on her knees. "Friends? Boyfriends? Adorable puppies that need adopting?"