Summer of Sam

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

[ Summer of Sam: Ending B ]

Twenty minutes later, when he's washed his hands and put the kit away, Sam is standing in the bathroom again. Confident this time to complete his shave, since he'd threatened to tie Jo to the hotel bed and/or make her use the crutches in the car for the rest of the day - possibly tomorrow - maybe the next day if she didn't stay the hell on the bed at least until he'd finished putting their things to rights.

She's yelling at him, but only over the sound of the television and the water running over his razor. Got the books out, the notebooks, suggesting places to go, people to see. Things to check into. And maybe it's the afterglow talking, but it's the first time he's felt at all ready to address any of it.

"We're not going anywhere near Nebraska until it's been a week since I lied to your mom."



Well, there are still some things going unaddressed.

Comments

[tobeclosetohim]

"I love how you haven't figure out she's tracing us right now," Jo said. "Might even knowing exactly which square on the grid we are."

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

Melinda Schmooter has an unfortunate surname. Sam's of the opinion she also has an unfortunate career.

The witch part, not the psychic. He's assuming she didn't go looking for the latter.

The Impala is rumbling silent over asphalt, no music for the moment. Sam's just waiting for the next set of directions before they walk into a woman's life and kidnap her abilities.