Meredith got moved to was more like a resort than hospital, at least it felt that way to Sam. It was a recovery and therapy place, yeah? But still full nursing and doctors or whatever, private rooms, and it looked like some place for vacation, and Sam figured Neil's guilt was bankrolling the thing hard.
Sam had been at Cris' a few days now, and she was clean. A pair of recently stolen, too-loose and cut-hem jeans, along with a long-sleeved green shirt stolen from Teresita's room, hair tied low, and Sam looked ok. She was starting to jones like crazy, though, and an early morning perusal of Cris' place revealed no money that wasn't in a fat, pink piggybank, and she wasn't that low YET. But, yeah, she needed something fast, or she was going to break that fucking pig. She knew it. Maybe she could find something cheap to sell, but she'd ask around first. She'd already pocketed a spoon for when she scored, and her belly hurt like it was eating itself through. She was jittery as a result, yeah? Like a string pulled too tight.
Maybe it wasn't the best day to go visiting or whatever.
But here they were, walking down the marble halls and passing gift shops and indoor swimming pools. Open doors revealed rooms that looked like hotel suites, and Sam was hella aware that she and Cris looked like maybe they'd ended up in the wrong place. That, or they were someone's poor relations or whatever, but they definitely didn't look like they belonged in this place. Sam edged away from the walls, like they were too clean for her to brush up against, and she motioned down the hall, to where the woman at the nursing station had told them Meredith's room was.
She'd asked, too, nosy, if Neil was there, and the nurse assured her Meredith was alone again, and she said it like she wasn't approving or something. There was a story there, yeah? But Sam, she wasn't asking.]