Re: Gotham: Sam & Liam
[Yeah, Sam couldn't remember the last time she saw Liam. She wasn't even sure she knew about those wings. Ok, she wasn't freaked by them, so she must have known, but she hadn't ever seen them or whatever. She still remembered Liam as the writer at the bar, yeah? In Vegas, that first week this shit had started up. Her, him, Neil and Aiden, pitchers of beer, and she didn't even remember what the fuck Liam had said to make her toss her beer at him with no fucking anger at all. Life had been so fucking easy then, yeah? None of them knew jackshit about each other, and it was all so fucking casual. People meeting, having drinks, and none of them so fucked up they could barely make it through a day.
Shit, that felt like a different lifetime.
Carefree, yeah? Now she stood there, at the mouth of a fucking alley, and looked at him. It was dark, Gotham night and she stomped out her cigarette.
He looked like shit. Worse than he'd looked after all that fucking shit with Tristan, and worse than when he'd started fucking around with those pills. She'd been expecting it, yeah? Because she'd seen Lou go to hell or whatever, but it was different with Liam. A different kind of fucked, because Liam's shit had started way before any fucking cult came along.
Comparatively, she looked better. Wrinkled, too thin, but better. The asylum had been ass, but it had been ass with square meals and a warm bed, and she hadn't touched a needle for three fucking months. Three endless fucking months, yeah? Ok, so she smoked some weed, and she'd taken some pills, but no tar for that long, and she itched her arms as she stood there.]
Hey. [Careful, and she wasn't as trusting as she'd been before, yeah? She motioned him toward the mouth of the alley.] Come on, baby. Zatanna's is way the fuck up in the Heights.