Re: log: sam, russ, and louis
Even Sam couldn't ignore that something was fucked up now, but she didn't know what the fuck it was. She looked from Lou to Russ, questions in the depths of inky blue. But, yeah, ok, if someone had something to say, they could just say it. She wasn't going to draw it out like a splinter or something. Lou cheered up, and she thought she'd made the right fucking call, at least. She was about to say how she knew Cris, but then Russ popped in, and she couldn't read his fucking tone, but she knew that sharp look meant something, something smart like he'd noticed some shit - or like he thought he had. "What? Did he tell you we fucked all over the hotel lobby or something? Wait, no, or that we shot up all over the stairs leading to the second floor?" she asked, and she could've been saying it for show, or she could've meant it; it wasn't really fucking clear. The only thing that was clear was that she didn't like the sharp look, not without some fucking explanation to back it.
She looked back at Lou. "We met at the hotel thing. He thought he was asleep, so I explained the hotel and shit mostly." Simple, uncomplicated shit. Thank you very much, Russell Campbell. "He's a good guy, yeah? Misses his wife, and trying to figure out how to be a dad."
But, yeah, she was used to Lou worrying all the fucking time, and she sat forward and gave him a really straight fucking look. "Baby, I just don't want to be the kid that everyone worries about all the time, yeah? I'm good. I'm figuring my shit out. I'm here," she added, motioning to the apartment. "I'm not hiding from everyone anymore. That has to count for something, yeah?" She smiled, but it was a worried smile. "And I look better than you do, so don't give me shit. Let us worry about you for once."