Re: [quicklog: micah c, neil d, cris m, louis d]
[He missed Louis. Or he saw him, but black passed over the man uncaring, subsumed by the sight of Sam stumbling out under half-cracked sun, yolk bleeding into pollutants as a thunderhead rolled up, skittering sugar-stuck dirt and sand in whorls around shined shoes. Cris knew too, instantly, that the girl wasn't who she looked like. Because he remembered those photos, sweat, skin, disgusting, and even if the register of the voice matched, the accent wasn't all there, wasn't as sharp as crowded tenements in Elizabeth, NJ, and raggedy tanktop or no, this girl wasn't from a barrio. There was no trouble in her bones and not enough cotton in her eyes. Plus, her hair had been fixed—when had Sam ever done that?
He got then what Micah musta wished for, or at least what he got, and he smiled, inexplicably, white and wolfish, peligroso. Cris came forward across must of dust, under the fishwire dangle of lights, around Louis, but still a good ten feet or so out.] ¡Mira quién está aquí! [Cris knew the Irishman couldn't understand him, but why not let him think he had them fooled.] ¿Cuándo llegó, mami? [His stomach churned, looping wildly beneath church garb and bulletproof vest, and he could still taste the dryness of communion on his tongue. His throat was thick, refusing to swallow, even as no surprise played out across dark features.
Cris was good at playing a part when he had to, and here, it was all openness. Like he was just happy to see Sam, black gaze warm and crinkling.] ¡Te vas a enterar! [Neil and Louis coulda been anywhere and anyone. They were nothing more than the soiled paper that blew underfoot. The shorts Micah wore on the semblance of Sam's hips dipped low, dug into white flesh, like they had a weight attached in the back, and Cris had it figured for a gun. Only a special kind of idiota tucked a loaded firearm in by their ass.] Mami, we were worried about you. C'mere. [He continued to approach, no hesitation to betray what he knew. It was uncanny and it was uncomfortable, but it was the best chance he had to get to Micah before Louis brained him.—Cris had his arms open, like he was expecting a hug, because that was what Sam would do. She'd jump right into his arms.]