08-08-2013, 01:48 PM
Sam chooses a place that's sort of halfway between them, or between her work and where she assumes Hosea is. Someplace quiet-ish, where they can talk about why he sounded so tired on the phone. She's Kinfolk, she's the daughter of an Ahroun and the elder sister of two other wolves; she's heard that weariness before.
She listens to the telling of the attack with obvious horror. She can see that building from her balcony. To say that it hit close to home isn't the same as it was for Hosea and those who take up residence in the building, but it was definitely too close for comfort.
There's not much left she can say for the mother. She tried, she pleaded her case, she knows she was lucky to get a say at all. But she can hope, still, that after this they will find mercy in the aftermath of carnage. Sam nods her sad understanding.
Then he gets to what she's wondered was going to happen ever since she said to him If he needs a place to come from, he can come from my family. He can be an Evans. Ever since she's wondered if someone would ask her to clarify, or tell her that she's volunteered, here's your baby good day to you.
She picks up where he's going before he gets to that silent question. It's one thing to wonder and think and plan and prepare in her head. It's another for it to actually be presented.
She looks down at the baby. She looks up at Hosea.
The thing about Samantha Evans is this. If her life were a game wherein she walked around with a bright green PlumBob floating over her head, her archetype designation would be "Family." Her own is large and scattered, but that doesn't change the fact that she grew up eldest and then pseudo-eldest of nearly a half a dozen children, people that she loves dearly and misses on a near daily basis. She's already been adopting Garou into a surrogate family since she arrived.
What Hosea is asking her, it's a lifetime commitment. She has to promise to raise and care for someone else's child at least until she knows if he will Change or if he'll be Kin like her. And not just anyone else's child, the offspring of Dancers, a baby born from and into corruption. Perhaps there is no hope for his nature.
That doesn't matter to Sam, though. She is going to nurture the hell out of that kid.
"I can take him." Her parents are going to freak out. "There'll be paperwork, I guess, he'll need a birth certificate." Reese isn't going to know what the fuck. "And adoption stuff, too." Her dad is going to shoot across the phone lines, she can already hear it happening. "I'll have to change some stuff around." Like her home. Like her cat. Like everything. "But I can do it."
She listens to the telling of the attack with obvious horror. She can see that building from her balcony. To say that it hit close to home isn't the same as it was for Hosea and those who take up residence in the building, but it was definitely too close for comfort.
There's not much left she can say for the mother. She tried, she pleaded her case, she knows she was lucky to get a say at all. But she can hope, still, that after this they will find mercy in the aftermath of carnage. Sam nods her sad understanding.
Then he gets to what she's wondered was going to happen ever since she said to him If he needs a place to come from, he can come from my family. He can be an Evans. Ever since she's wondered if someone would ask her to clarify, or tell her that she's volunteered, here's your baby good day to you.
She picks up where he's going before he gets to that silent question. It's one thing to wonder and think and plan and prepare in her head. It's another for it to actually be presented.
She looks down at the baby. She looks up at Hosea.
The thing about Samantha Evans is this. If her life were a game wherein she walked around with a bright green PlumBob floating over her head, her archetype designation would be "Family." Her own is large and scattered, but that doesn't change the fact that she grew up eldest and then pseudo-eldest of nearly a half a dozen children, people that she loves dearly and misses on a near daily basis. She's already been adopting Garou into a surrogate family since she arrived.
What Hosea is asking her, it's a lifetime commitment. She has to promise to raise and care for someone else's child at least until she knows if he will Change or if he'll be Kin like her. And not just anyone else's child, the offspring of Dancers, a baby born from and into corruption. Perhaps there is no hope for his nature.
That doesn't matter to Sam, though. She is going to nurture the hell out of that kid.
"I can take him." Her parents are going to freak out. "There'll be paperwork, I guess, he'll need a birth certificate." Reese isn't going to know what the fuck. "And adoption stuff, too." Her dad is going to shoot across the phone lines, she can already hear it happening. "I'll have to change some stuff around." Like her home. Like her cat. Like everything. "But I can do it."