Re: Shadowcrest: Sam & Louis
"Are you playing the part of Cris, baby?" she asked, and she tucked her feet up onto his lap, two pairs of frigid cold socks and no shoes. "He always bitches about me not having a fucking coat, or about not wearing shoes." And, yeah, ok, so the walk had been hella fucking cold. "I didn't want to wear anything that belonged to Meredith or Neil," she finally admitted. "I came from the penthouse, yeah? And I promised her I'd back the fuck off, and stealing her shit just felt like the opposite of backing the fuck off." But she took the blanket gratefully, and she draped it over her shoulders; it would do.
"Baby, your brother doesn't want to be around me. It's cool. It's ok. He's avoiding me. It is what it is, yeah?" Which it was, and there wasn't shit to do about it except be upset, but it wasn't like Neil ditching her was anything new. "I been asking him for too much help lately. I'm the one who made it weird, and now his girlfriend ran the fuck off to some door of certain DOOM because of me. Shit is awk. It'll be fine in fifty years or something." She wasn't worried about what Neil would do if he stayed around her too long, because Neil had zero interest.
She laughed when he said she looked terrible, rusty and throat-sore, but all of her belly behind it, because that was just how shit was with her. She didn't do things by half, especially with her eyes clear ink and nothing dulling them. Ok, so maybe her eyes went wet at the corners, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing; feeling shit was better than feeling nothing, yeah? "Thanks, asshole," she said of the compliment, but she knew he was right; she didn't look good. The sad thing was she'd looked worse recently, and she knew that shit too.
But, whatever, none of it mattered. And impulsive as always, she just crawled across the small span of red velvet and hugged her brother. Blanket falling off, her arms around his shoulders, and none of Lou's proper Scottish bullshit. Sniffles and tears against his cheek, and she stayed close when she drew back again. Sitting against her heels, she dragged the blanket forward again and held onto it, like Linus in a comic strip. "So, what about you? This fucked up fucking shit that's going on with you?" she asked, invitation to vent, to babble, to whatever.