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station722016-05-07 05:01 pm
frakkincylons) wrote in station722016-05-07 05:01 pm
(OPEN | mental link + some log prompts)
CHARACTERS: Sam Anders + anyone
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day 170 and forward, until the mission
SUMMARY: General mental link talk, calling for Castor brood meeting, training, doing weird robot things.
WARNINGS: Will mark individual threads/prompts
( You guys are about to love us. )
[ To any willing to accept it, Sam will be opening up the room he's currently in, doing something a lot like Cylon projection, to bring everyone else into his space with him. It's not seeing from his eyes, it's like being in the room with him. He'll be standing in front of a rough but sleek looking brewing still, set up in a room near the life support deck, already filled up with the ingredients needed for mixing up some moonshine, a few jugs of some very serious alcohol already brewed and sitting on a counter nearby. ]
( Guess what Anakin and I found. And got working. ) [ which was a process, but one Sam ended up learning a lot in, and now here he is. ] ( I'm not saying we've got top shelf Ambrosia or anything, but if you don't mind needing a strong chaser, things just got a little more normal around here. )
[ which, sam thinks, everyone could use a bit of. for sam, it gives a solid reminder of Galactica. Galen's jet juice. the bar, Joe's, they set up in the corner of the flight deck. just for things to feel a little more like home. even if home wasn't a place any of them were going back to. if it can help him, and the men and women from the fleet, maybe it'll help his new family on the station.
anyway, there's one other tidbit. ]
( Before I let you guys go - Castor. Can I get you guys to come by this room in a little while? Just want to talk about something. Rather do it in person. Thanks. )
CASTOR MEETING;
Okay, guys. Here's the speech. Please hold all groaning and eye rolling and seering critique 'til the end. [ Sam starts, once everyone who'd been willing to come shows up. It's been a while since he's done this - since New Caprica and the Insurrection, really. He hadn't really been part of a real team, since finding out who he was, and even less looked to for guidance. Not that they're doing that here, but he wants to heal this brood. He wants to make sure all of them get through this, alive and well, and they don't end up with voids in them where a person, a soul, used to be. ] I know we don't all like each other, hell, I'm pretty sure some of you hate each other, but this is the thing. We're stuck together. Permanently. For the rest of the time we're here, and if you've been listening, you know that's gonna be a long ass time.
Losing one of us hurts all of us, screwing up a mission hurts all of us, and considering our place here, in the Nest, is our future, we can't afford to keep frakking up just 'cause we don't like the people we're next to, you know? [ they have to know the thin ice they've all been on. just telling someone he's new to castor has been getting sam looks of 'wow, sucks to be you, buddy'. and even if that sentiment's deserved, doesn't mean they can't still be kicking ass while looking like a train wreck. ] I know none of you are stupid, and I know you understand how to make tactics work. Some of you better than most. I mean, look at what we have. Kylo Ren and Anakin both have the Force, they can wreck pretty much anything in front of them with that. Steve and Jessica are both durable as all hell. Any kind of tech is nothing to me, and Ilde can turn any sentient being into a whimpering pile. There's no reason we shouldn't be getting things done out there, and coming back to the station with Cathaway and Prince putting little gold stars on our charts.
[ maybe relating this to kinder garten reward systems isn't the best analogy, but whatever, you guys get the idea. ]
Shove each other off all you want on downtime, but whether you're here to protect the multiverse from that thing that wants all of us dead, or if you're trying to gain power, or if you're just trying to make the best out of a shitty afterlife, helping each other in the brood helps you. Harming, or letting harm come to another broodmate means putting yourself more at risk.
[ sam pauses there, breathing out slowly, as he turns to pour himself some moonshine. ] So, that's it. That's all I got. Booze? Anyone? Jessica?
SAM DOES HIS HYBRID THING IN THE FLIGHT DECK (cw: minor self-mutilation for cyborgish purposes);
[ the broken navigational computer had been in the scrap pile of the flight deck a few days before, and sam had pilfered it for the purposes of working on his symbiote ability. well, more so for plugging himself into the universe at large, using the scrapped nav computer as a conduit, and had been expecting that he, in hybrid state, would have just fixed whatever issue was wrong with it. however, now that he's sitting in the hangar again, turning the thing on and trying to make sure it's all been patched up, what the screen gives him makes no sense. ] What did I do...
[ a jumble of strange symbols, letters and numbers in no real order, and after sam squints at it for a long moment, he starts to get a picture out of it. at first, he'd thought it was a vague, starburst kind of effect, with no real meaning. but upon stepping back, squinting his eyes to blur his field of vision, and tilting his head a bit, he sees it. a colonial cylon basestar. for a long, too still moment, sam has forgotten to breathe, and it's as if he's guided more than moving of his own free will. the pocket knife he'd had set to the side on the work table is dragged towards him, as he takes his seat again. the sharp point digs into a barely healed cut on the heel of his left palm, splitting the skin open again, down to the muscle, with a grimace. automatic, sam reaches into the exposed wiring of the computer, tugs out a cable, and proceeds to press it into the cut, feeding it into his body. with a sudden jerk, Sam's spine goes completely rigid, and his fingers grip white knuckled against the shell of the computer. eyes wide and mind absent, he starts to ramble in flat monotone, as if in a trance. ]
Generation of forward chaining systems, percept format copied, applied, adjusted, parameters of the missing whispers in a cavern of dark and void, echoes in the hallways of ghosts, their mouths sewn shut. Books and cards and thumbprints no longer our own, end of line. Dust in the solar wind we will all follow, NLP complete, it knows it's source, we have seen the scars left by chains, the smoke has cleared, lessons learned, only time will tell. [ A pause, eyelids blinking once, twice, three times, as the screen flickers it's backlight in the same rhythm. ] Awake the soul and find the writing on the wall that lies in the shadow of the light. The seven holds the center. The seven holds the center. The seven holds the center.
[ As if it takes a considerable amount of effort, the hand not plugged into the computer gradually moves towards the cable buried under his skin, fingers twitching, until he can grasp it firm, and yank it out. with a violent gasp, and a bodily shudder, Sam goes slack against the back of his chair, eyes blank but open as they stare somewhere off into space. give it a moment (exactly twice the time he'd spent rambling like a crazy person), and he'll jolt back up, like waking from a too intense dream. ]
Daniel... [ turning, eyes wide and smile spreading, he shouts it to whoever's nearby, regardless of if he knows them or not. ] It's Daniel!
[ well, it's not really Daniel, because that would take a hell of a lot of work and more minds than just his own, but it has the structure of the murdered seventh cylon model there. sweet, soft, innocent little daniel. sam's happy to see even just a shadow of him. ]
JAILHOUSE TATTOOING IN THE REC WING;
[ self tattooing is not something sam's any kind of talented in, but he'd managed to get the basic idea of jailhouse style stick and poke. that'd be why he's bent over a table in the rec wing, with a sewing needle, a pen, a pencil, some string, a tray of ink, a lighter and some rubbing alcohol. through the course of the next couple hours, he can be found with his left forearm braced firmly on the tabletop, inside facing upwards. what he's trying to ink into his arm is already drawn there with the pen: ]
[ simple, and there to preform a function. if asked, he'll likely tell, but otherwise, after the part where the needle has to start being poked into his skin, all you'll hear from sam is: ]
Ow. Ow. Ow. [ mumbled, under his breath, mostly unconscious. the original tattoo on his right arm wasn't this much of an annoyance, though he's not sure if that's from the fact he's doing this in the least professional way possible, or just the fact that he's doing it. ]
TRAINING/SPACE SPORTS;
[ sam had been essentially paralyzed for at least a month, maybe two, and before that he hadn't exactly been keeping up well with his physical training, either for Pyramid or for soldiering. he's out of shape (though still looks like he could snap steve rogers in half with a gentle shove, because, come on, he was a professional sports star for about 5-10 years), and Sam can't have that if he's going to be sent out for combat and, well, they insist it isn't military, but it seems a lot like military, missions. he needs to be fast, strong, and back in good health, and that's why Sam can likely be caught in the training room on most days, working out. doing pulls ups, push ups, weight training, agility training, and running laps either in the training wing or just out and about in the station. so be careful coming out of doors into the hallways, but at least Pyramid has taught Sam enough about dodging and weaving that he'll only shout out a quick: ] On your left! Sorry! [ before taking a quick sidestep and dodge swiftly around the body in his path. maybe he's not that sorry, because it is very good practice.
but should you find him in the training wing, and he doesn't happen to be running the same routine of exercises at the moment, he's likely setting up a court for Pyramid. whether the game means anything to him these days or not, it's still at least fun, and it's still a hell of a good work out. so, if he catches you watching, he'll likely wave you over. ] Hey! Come here, this thing needs two people.
[ if you're either someone from his brood, or one of the two guardians of the station, he'll start chattering to you while doing his exercises, or practicing some solo Pyramid runs. ]
So, this is what I figured. I'm not going home, and it doesn't really matter when I die, because time's all screwy anyway. [ it does matter, because he was on his way to a good death, to a certain and sure peace that he'd longed for, that he and Kara had both worked so hard for, and that was robbed from him. and yes, he's petulant, and he's bitter about that. but he's going to make sure he's still deserving of it by the time he gets over there. he doesn't like waiting, he doesn't want to, but it's also more than just protecting earth now, isn't it? removing himself means leaving a gaping hole in the souls of his brood, and he can't do that to them. awake only 4 days, and he's already too attached to them to bare the thought of hurting them like that. ] I've got at least, probably, twenty years? At max, thirty or forty? Before my brain's not totally mine anymore? If I'm practicing, but being careful about it?
[ by which, he means strengthening his symbiote bond to further his abilities. ] If I can train it just far enough to get me back where I should be, I'll be useful to you guys. Cylons should be able to shove a person through a wall if they push hard enough, and I sure as frak can't do that right now. I should be able to control something the size of this station and probably more, with the right set up. But I'm not there either.
[ he talks while he's physically distracted with tossing the pyramid ball around, or while doing pull ups, or jump rope. whatever one of the sundry of things he's set himself about to do. ] So, I train myself up that far, then cut it off. I know it's an eventual thing, so the mind meld thing'll keep going, but I only need so much, you know? Then seal it up and batten down the hatches.
CLOSED TO KAYLA RENO;
[ sam's caught up in jogging laps around the training wing, possibly right after word vomiting something close to the speech above at Ren (seeing as he's developed a weird habit of confiding his mental dilemmas in this man), as the man had been making his way through the area for whatever reason. there's a moment of pause, once he's finished, before a thought seems to occur to him, Sam dashing over to Ren, turning to jog backwards in front of him. ] Hey, hey, wait a second. Question.
[ at which point he stops, hands on his hips and lungs working hard to keep up with him. ] You're a warrior or something, right? Space knight? I know there's the Force and all, but you know normal combat too, right?
Could you teach me?
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day 170 and forward, until the mission
SUMMARY: General mental link talk, calling for Castor brood meeting, training, doing weird robot things.
WARNINGS: Will mark individual threads/prompts
( You guys are about to love us. )
[ To any willing to accept it, Sam will be opening up the room he's currently in, doing something a lot like Cylon projection, to bring everyone else into his space with him. It's not seeing from his eyes, it's like being in the room with him. He'll be standing in front of a rough but sleek looking brewing still, set up in a room near the life support deck, already filled up with the ingredients needed for mixing up some moonshine, a few jugs of some very serious alcohol already brewed and sitting on a counter nearby. ]
( Guess what Anakin and I found. And got working. ) [ which was a process, but one Sam ended up learning a lot in, and now here he is. ] ( I'm not saying we've got top shelf Ambrosia or anything, but if you don't mind needing a strong chaser, things just got a little more normal around here. )
[ which, sam thinks, everyone could use a bit of. for sam, it gives a solid reminder of Galactica. Galen's jet juice. the bar, Joe's, they set up in the corner of the flight deck. just for things to feel a little more like home. even if home wasn't a place any of them were going back to. if it can help him, and the men and women from the fleet, maybe it'll help his new family on the station.
anyway, there's one other tidbit. ]
( Before I let you guys go - Castor. Can I get you guys to come by this room in a little while? Just want to talk about something. Rather do it in person. Thanks. )
CASTOR MEETING;
Okay, guys. Here's the speech. Please hold all groaning and eye rolling and seering critique 'til the end. [ Sam starts, once everyone who'd been willing to come shows up. It's been a while since he's done this - since New Caprica and the Insurrection, really. He hadn't really been part of a real team, since finding out who he was, and even less looked to for guidance. Not that they're doing that here, but he wants to heal this brood. He wants to make sure all of them get through this, alive and well, and they don't end up with voids in them where a person, a soul, used to be. ] I know we don't all like each other, hell, I'm pretty sure some of you hate each other, but this is the thing. We're stuck together. Permanently. For the rest of the time we're here, and if you've been listening, you know that's gonna be a long ass time.
Losing one of us hurts all of us, screwing up a mission hurts all of us, and considering our place here, in the Nest, is our future, we can't afford to keep frakking up just 'cause we don't like the people we're next to, you know? [ they have to know the thin ice they've all been on. just telling someone he's new to castor has been getting sam looks of 'wow, sucks to be you, buddy'. and even if that sentiment's deserved, doesn't mean they can't still be kicking ass while looking like a train wreck. ] I know none of you are stupid, and I know you understand how to make tactics work. Some of you better than most. I mean, look at what we have. Kylo Ren and Anakin both have the Force, they can wreck pretty much anything in front of them with that. Steve and Jessica are both durable as all hell. Any kind of tech is nothing to me, and Ilde can turn any sentient being into a whimpering pile. There's no reason we shouldn't be getting things done out there, and coming back to the station with Cathaway and Prince putting little gold stars on our charts.
[ maybe relating this to kinder garten reward systems isn't the best analogy, but whatever, you guys get the idea. ]
Shove each other off all you want on downtime, but whether you're here to protect the multiverse from that thing that wants all of us dead, or if you're trying to gain power, or if you're just trying to make the best out of a shitty afterlife, helping each other in the brood helps you. Harming, or letting harm come to another broodmate means putting yourself more at risk.
[ sam pauses there, breathing out slowly, as he turns to pour himself some moonshine. ] So, that's it. That's all I got. Booze? Anyone? Jessica?
SAM DOES HIS HYBRID THING IN THE FLIGHT DECK (cw: minor self-mutilation for cyborgish purposes);
[ the broken navigational computer had been in the scrap pile of the flight deck a few days before, and sam had pilfered it for the purposes of working on his symbiote ability. well, more so for plugging himself into the universe at large, using the scrapped nav computer as a conduit, and had been expecting that he, in hybrid state, would have just fixed whatever issue was wrong with it. however, now that he's sitting in the hangar again, turning the thing on and trying to make sure it's all been patched up, what the screen gives him makes no sense. ] What did I do...
[ a jumble of strange symbols, letters and numbers in no real order, and after sam squints at it for a long moment, he starts to get a picture out of it. at first, he'd thought it was a vague, starburst kind of effect, with no real meaning. but upon stepping back, squinting his eyes to blur his field of vision, and tilting his head a bit, he sees it. a colonial cylon basestar. for a long, too still moment, sam has forgotten to breathe, and it's as if he's guided more than moving of his own free will. the pocket knife he'd had set to the side on the work table is dragged towards him, as he takes his seat again. the sharp point digs into a barely healed cut on the heel of his left palm, splitting the skin open again, down to the muscle, with a grimace. automatic, sam reaches into the exposed wiring of the computer, tugs out a cable, and proceeds to press it into the cut, feeding it into his body. with a sudden jerk, Sam's spine goes completely rigid, and his fingers grip white knuckled against the shell of the computer. eyes wide and mind absent, he starts to ramble in flat monotone, as if in a trance. ]
Generation of forward chaining systems, percept format copied, applied, adjusted, parameters of the missing whispers in a cavern of dark and void, echoes in the hallways of ghosts, their mouths sewn shut. Books and cards and thumbprints no longer our own, end of line. Dust in the solar wind we will all follow, NLP complete, it knows it's source, we have seen the scars left by chains, the smoke has cleared, lessons learned, only time will tell. [ A pause, eyelids blinking once, twice, three times, as the screen flickers it's backlight in the same rhythm. ] Awake the soul and find the writing on the wall that lies in the shadow of the light. The seven holds the center. The seven holds the center. The seven holds the center.
[ As if it takes a considerable amount of effort, the hand not plugged into the computer gradually moves towards the cable buried under his skin, fingers twitching, until he can grasp it firm, and yank it out. with a violent gasp, and a bodily shudder, Sam goes slack against the back of his chair, eyes blank but open as they stare somewhere off into space. give it a moment (exactly twice the time he'd spent rambling like a crazy person), and he'll jolt back up, like waking from a too intense dream. ]
Daniel... [ turning, eyes wide and smile spreading, he shouts it to whoever's nearby, regardless of if he knows them or not. ] It's Daniel!
[ well, it's not really Daniel, because that would take a hell of a lot of work and more minds than just his own, but it has the structure of the murdered seventh cylon model there. sweet, soft, innocent little daniel. sam's happy to see even just a shadow of him. ]
JAILHOUSE TATTOOING IN THE REC WING;
[ self tattooing is not something sam's any kind of talented in, but he'd managed to get the basic idea of jailhouse style stick and poke. that'd be why he's bent over a table in the rec wing, with a sewing needle, a pen, a pencil, some string, a tray of ink, a lighter and some rubbing alcohol. through the course of the next couple hours, he can be found with his left forearm braced firmly on the tabletop, inside facing upwards. what he's trying to ink into his arm is already drawn there with the pen: ]
[ simple, and there to preform a function. if asked, he'll likely tell, but otherwise, after the part where the needle has to start being poked into his skin, all you'll hear from sam is: ]
Ow. Ow. Ow. [ mumbled, under his breath, mostly unconscious. the original tattoo on his right arm wasn't this much of an annoyance, though he's not sure if that's from the fact he's doing this in the least professional way possible, or just the fact that he's doing it. ]
TRAINING/SPACE SPORTS;
[ sam had been essentially paralyzed for at least a month, maybe two, and before that he hadn't exactly been keeping up well with his physical training, either for Pyramid or for soldiering. he's out of shape (though still looks like he could snap steve rogers in half with a gentle shove, because, come on, he was a professional sports star for about 5-10 years), and Sam can't have that if he's going to be sent out for combat and, well, they insist it isn't military, but it seems a lot like military, missions. he needs to be fast, strong, and back in good health, and that's why Sam can likely be caught in the training room on most days, working out. doing pulls ups, push ups, weight training, agility training, and running laps either in the training wing or just out and about in the station. so be careful coming out of doors into the hallways, but at least Pyramid has taught Sam enough about dodging and weaving that he'll only shout out a quick: ] On your left! Sorry! [ before taking a quick sidestep and dodge swiftly around the body in his path. maybe he's not that sorry, because it is very good practice.
but should you find him in the training wing, and he doesn't happen to be running the same routine of exercises at the moment, he's likely setting up a court for Pyramid. whether the game means anything to him these days or not, it's still at least fun, and it's still a hell of a good work out. so, if he catches you watching, he'll likely wave you over. ] Hey! Come here, this thing needs two people.
[ if you're either someone from his brood, or one of the two guardians of the station, he'll start chattering to you while doing his exercises, or practicing some solo Pyramid runs. ]
So, this is what I figured. I'm not going home, and it doesn't really matter when I die, because time's all screwy anyway. [ it does matter, because he was on his way to a good death, to a certain and sure peace that he'd longed for, that he and Kara had both worked so hard for, and that was robbed from him. and yes, he's petulant, and he's bitter about that. but he's going to make sure he's still deserving of it by the time he gets over there. he doesn't like waiting, he doesn't want to, but it's also more than just protecting earth now, isn't it? removing himself means leaving a gaping hole in the souls of his brood, and he can't do that to them. awake only 4 days, and he's already too attached to them to bare the thought of hurting them like that. ] I've got at least, probably, twenty years? At max, thirty or forty? Before my brain's not totally mine anymore? If I'm practicing, but being careful about it?
[ by which, he means strengthening his symbiote bond to further his abilities. ] If I can train it just far enough to get me back where I should be, I'll be useful to you guys. Cylons should be able to shove a person through a wall if they push hard enough, and I sure as frak can't do that right now. I should be able to control something the size of this station and probably more, with the right set up. But I'm not there either.
[ he talks while he's physically distracted with tossing the pyramid ball around, or while doing pull ups, or jump rope. whatever one of the sundry of things he's set himself about to do. ] So, I train myself up that far, then cut it off. I know it's an eventual thing, so the mind meld thing'll keep going, but I only need so much, you know? Then seal it up and batten down the hatches.
CLOSED TO KAYLA RENO;
[ sam's caught up in jogging laps around the training wing, possibly right after word vomiting something close to the speech above at Ren (seeing as he's developed a weird habit of confiding his mental dilemmas in this man), as the man had been making his way through the area for whatever reason. there's a moment of pause, once he's finished, before a thought seems to occur to him, Sam dashing over to Ren, turning to jog backwards in front of him. ] Hey, hey, wait a second. Question.
[ at which point he stops, hands on his hips and lungs working hard to keep up with him. ] You're a warrior or something, right? Space knight? I know there's the Force and all, but you know normal combat too, right?
Could you teach me?
don't tempt Ren
It's an insult and doubly so from Sam.]
I was agreeing with you. [There's a hiss to the syllables that's nothing short of vitriol in an audible form.
One clipped breath, drawn in through his nose, and the hardness to his posture slackens by careful, tentative degrees. Thin ice.] But our brood isn't weak: expecting fear of pain to temper our differences is a mistake.
Loyalty. Unity. If we cannot serve a common cause with a singular mind, we invite failure.
shhhh pats his cheeks
Maybe lead with that next time. I'm sorry. [ Because that'd struck a nerve, and Ren makes it completely obvious. There is a spike of guilt in him for pulling out the Cathaway topic, though he hadn't gotten than Ren was just arguing methodology rather than the actual proposal. Either way, there is a genuine remorse for making Ren feel slighted, and Sam's mentally reaching out for him from across the room, to convey the sincerity of apology.
( I am. You won't catch plague if you come sit with us, you know. )
just. come over here and stop being tense, please. he'll even pour you some moonshine. anyway, back to the rest of them. ]
Fear of anything is a crap way to motivate anyway. Oppression begets resistance, and none of us are shy about standing up for ourselves. The point is we know better, and you're right. Loyalty, unity. [ Working towards a common cause with a singular mind. Whether that cause is something noble or not, that's the best way to go about this. ] Either we work it as a team, or accept that we'll be screwing it all up. It just makes sense to help the group.
no subject
It's not that we don't like each other. [ Unless something else happened in the past few days between the others. For himself, he knows that saying that he dislikes Ren doesn't cover the heart of the issue. He couldn't even say he disliked Ren before the mission. His jaw twists, and he stares at some empty point on the wall. ] It's that on Avera we fundamentally disagreed on when and where we ought to be using lethal force. [ And the consequences that follow.
He uses disagreed, past tense, because he believes Ilde's already had a shift in opinion - if only for the sake of the rest of them. As for Ren... he can't say yet. ]
no subject
I do not wish to force bloodshed on my brood.
[ It's not an apology. It isn't regret for her actions. It is the understanding that they all now act as one, and they should be in agreement on this. Life is a much more precious concept to some than others, and that is their right. She is perhaps only sorry that she did not understand how it would hurt those tied to her. ]
no subject
either way, not the point. He follows along with what Steve says, nodding, and looking to Ilde when she seems to mention the issue that's being discussed. She'd killed someone who provoked her, and there were consequence for that, that put the brood in a bad spot. It's good of her, to say what she does. even if she doesn't find error in it, she recognizes that the others aren't on the same place. ]
So we need checks. Balance each other. [ he pauses, glancing around the room at those seated here. ] If you're about to do something drastic, we've got the mental link. Check with someone else first. Make sure it's something that needs to happen first.
If you're not sure you'll be able to stay cool going into a situation, take someone else with you.
no subject
His mind remains sharp, jagged. Sam's guilt rushes up to meet him and it's more like water breaking over stone for how little Ren— worn so painfully thin in the wake of the last few days— cares to hear it.
(Leave it.)
Two steps forward, one back. Still, he meets Ilde's stare with little contention or further agitation - a slight consolation.]
no subject
It's Ren's one word agreement elicits a short pulse of surprise. He'd question the sincerity of it except for the look passed between him and Ilde just after. ]
Alright.
no subject
there might be the concern with Ilde, as she simply doesn't know better, and it's gut reaction to her, but after the last mission, it seems like she's taken it very seriously. they'll still be around to help.
as trying as all this is, and as distant as his brood tends to be, honestly, Sam's gotten pretty fond of them in the last week. he has nothing attaching to the universe he came from any longer, knowing he's gone from it and simply wishing it to continue unharmed, so these people are his life now. he'll treat them as family. as such:
( Thank you. ) sent to Ren, for agreeing on this. even if nothing comes of it, sam figures the lack of stress from worrying is enough. ]
Good talk. Anyone else smoke? [ because also, he found cigarettes, which he lofts up and gives a shake. considering this conversation settled. ]