THE THING ABOUT LOVE ~SAMSON

It was rare for him, but Samson was full of nerves, like he swallowed one of those wind-up chattering teeth. On the outside, he looked cool and confident. It was an exercise in the composure he'd held over the years, so expert and precise. Harley's hand grounded him so he didn't let his head get away with ridiculous notions, thinking of how he could screw this up simply by being Samson Fisher. Confident and poised, he kept reminding himself--if one stacked books on top of his head, he'd balance them perfectly. If they didn't fall off because of his unruly curls, that is. He smiled back down at her when, the expression minimal like all of those in his arsenal. The sincerity was there, though. Just like he didn't keep quiet to make things awkward. It was a necessity. He'd spent his life in silence.

She spoke, disturbing the cloak of silence with her voice, and it was a soothing balm to his nerves. He nodded, wanted to ask her if someone in her health should have been doing anything without someone watching her. But he kept his hand in hers and wondered if Charlotte had a nurse to keep an eye on her at home. When Harley pulled him into the house, he decided that no, she didn't have a nurse, because no nurse would let the woman be hanging drapes. He took a second to look around before calling his attention back when Harley verbally berated the old woman. And even though he knew he shouldn't, he smirked. He took a moment to appreciate the incense before lifting his hand in greeting when she questioned the presence of the 'young lad'.

Greetings like this always worried him. Would they judge him for simply smiling and nodding, not speaking? He usually didn't care, but this was his girlfriend's family. Sam needed to impress. He scratched the back of his head, trying to veil a grin when Harley insulted the drapes. They were pretty tacky, but he was a guest, and therefore he wouldn't be saying anything like that. Samson dropped his hand to his side as Charlotte came over to...observe him? The Thunder elemental blinked. he waved again, trying to be funny. That was when Kansas announced her approval of him, and he shrugged as if he couldn't help his cuteness. At least he'd gotten one woman...or girl's approval. But he also wondered if any of them realized yet. Would Harley say something about his condition? It felt kind of weird, being in this position, like he was awkwardly trying to figure out whether or not he should take out his phone and explain it himself. He looked to Harley for guidance. Maybe they already know...?

Samson couldn’t help the breath that left his mouth when Charlotte spoke of him being decent, forming a light snicker as he cupped his mouth and turned his head to the side. Oh god, he was dying, but he was trying to hide it as best as possible. He heard the door close when Kansas fled, and let himself look back at the woman, regaining his composure. When Harley spoke, reprimanding the old lady, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed his lips against her red hair, like kissing the surface of the sun. It’s okay, baby, the gesture said. It was easier than words, and he liked to believe that he and his girlfriend had a connection strong enough to tell anything through body language. He lifted his eyebrows and nodded a Charlotte, keeping an arm around Harley. Maybe it’d be best to keep physical contact to a minimum. He knew that fathers liked to take out the Smith and Wessen for boyfriends, but he didn’t know how it worked with grandmothers. So a tidal wave of relief flooded him when the woman said that he approved. Thank the good lord and whatever pagan gods are out there. That was really what he wanted for this meeting, what he sincerely hoped for.

He took it as his cue to follow when Charlotte when to the kitchen table, but waited when Harley didn’t move, enjoying her lips against his skin. His lips broke into one of those genuine smiles reserve for Harley, and he squeezed her hand before he was guided into the kitchen. He sat down next to Harley, listening as Charlotte spoke, thinking of how Beatrice would simply adore this place. She imagined her shrill voice in his head even now. Oh, how lovely, this woman is enchanting, Sammy, please don’t embarrass us. Us, like he was representing her as well. He decided now would be a good time to actually start communicating. He took out the touch screen phone, opened up the notepad on it, and wrote out, ”It happened when I was nine, because of a house fire. So I’m definitely used to it. This is how I communicate mostly. Unless someone knows ASL.” He slid it acros the table. If someone was curious, usually he wouldn’t have cared about giving an explanation. Charlotte was different.

It was rather morbid for the woman to be talking about her death so easily, but she was old and he guessed that maybe she had come to terms with the fact that she was going to leave very soon. It sure felt that way. He was a spiritual person, but he didn’t have any belief system. He liked to consider himself a Pagician. Or something similar. Was there an afterlife? Yeah. Was he worshipping a god to get there? Eh, he was worshipping quite a few gods. It couldn’t even really be considered worshipping. A lot of times he did it to please Beatrice. He smiled calmly as his fingers typed out, ”I’ll make sure to do that. Harley’s in great care. Though, she’s pretty good at taking care of herself.” That was true. And plus, there was no ‘as long as you two together’ for him. They would be together. And maybe it was sadism that made him type out the next words, but he couldn’t resist as he slid the phone across the table. ”Have any baby pictures of her?” His face was now placid, flat, and unassuming. Nothing to see here, move along.

Samson didn't know that Harley's parents had died in a fire. Especially didn't know that she was the one to cause the fire. All he knew was that they had died. "I'm sorry," he wrote out for Charlotte, noticing her tone. He didn't know what it was like to lose a child, but losing his parents had been bad enough. He'd possibly grown even more withdrawn after that. It made him question how he would have turned out if Beatrice hadn't come along, flitted into his room with lollipops and her jovial personality, taken him back to BC, picked up where his parents had left off. It had been a lot different from how his parents raised him, but he was certain they would have wanted her to come along. That's what she'd even told him. Samson took the redhead's hand in his, wondering if she needed the comfort right now.

Tie the knot? It was almost surreal to hear those words. He was still in high school, after all. He wondered where Harley was at, with her being in college now. The Thunder was certain he'd be going off to college. Especially since he wanted to further his knowledge of his element. But it was a kind sentiment, hearing that Harley's parents would approve of him. He was certain that his own would approve of the Fire girl, as well, would absolutely love her. It was achingly sad, though, like they were two orphans left out in the world on their own. Harley losing her grandmother just emphasized this. She's still here. "Thank you." He texted it out with just one finger. He was worried about Harley for a moment until Charlotte came in with the requested pictures and he smiled pleasantly at her.

He peaked into the book when the old woman opened it, started talking about Harley's resemblance to her mother and her father's attitude. He studied the photo, used his phone to write out, "You do look a lot like her, Harls. Though baby you needed a toupee." He grinned mischievously, not being able to help a little bit of teasing. "Did you always live in the Hollow?" Sam was curious about this family, couldn't help it. Harley was his girlfriend, and yet there was still so much he didn't know about her or her life. They'd been friends for a long time, but that didn't mean spilling every single secret out. And hell, he didn't talk much, so that meant knowing as little about him as possible. It was never intentional, at least not on his part. He never minded talking about his parents, or his old life in Newfoundland.

Samson felt as if he were intruding upon a very personal moment. He was not an emotional person. He hadn’t cried over his own parents. Sometimse, when he was younger, he’d catch Beatrice looking at him with watery eyes, heartbreak on her face. It was so unfamiliar now that it felt hard to remember such a look on her face. He held Harley’s hand, stroking his thumb over the skin. He blinked at the exchange of words between the two women. Why would it be Harley’s fault? It seemed rather cruel to him, and he felt a moment of upset and anger for his girlfriend. Then he connected it, though he couldn’t be too sure if he was right. Harley was a Fire. Her parents died in a fire. You’re jumping to conclusions, sensibility told him. He would ask her about that later, but he didn’t want to upset the pair anymore than they were at this point.

He really shouldn’t have been enjoying Harley’s frustration as much as he did, but he found it adorable and therefore he must continue. He figured that he should eventually return the favor, but the fact was that he didn’t have too many baby pictures. Relatives must have had quite a few, the only remnants of him, and Beatrice had pictures from his own parents and her own that she’d taken in his younger years. He was sure they wouldn’t be too entertaining, he didn’t think he was a very interesting child. Then he remembered what Beatrice used to dress him up in. Well damn. When he felt her lips on his cheek, her teasing words, he tugged back at her hair just like a baby might. He might have had something to write to her if Charlotte wasn’t around, but he kept his flirting to a minimum out of respect for the older woman. Hopefully she could still see that Harley was happy, because she was, wasn’t she? God, he hoped he made her happy. That was his goal in life, and he wanted this woman to leave the world with some form of comfort in that.

Since this was news to him, he texted another question to her. ”Where did you live before?” Hell, he realized he didn’t even know if she was Canadian. They met at the Academy, she could have been from the states, could have been from another continent entirely. He wondered if he’d mentioned Newfoundland to her, but couldn’t recall a conversation. And it was rather easy to do, considering how little he talked. He flipped through some more pages of Harley’s memories, wondering at the stories there, hoping to be filled in. Sam took an interest in this sort of thing, he couldn’t help it. Harley could be quite an enigma sometimes, and a person’s past was their story in part.

Ah, hockey. Canadian pastime, he could certainly understand that. He wasn't too big a fan, but he did watch games when they came on. One wouldn't picture him as a sports fan, but Beatrice definitely did, and she provided the foam fingers. Another smiled pulled at his lips. "Who won?" he questioned through text. "Do you remember?" Yes, these details were important. They helped form a more cohesive picture of her past. It was interesting, and sad all wrapped up in a bittersweet way. He did not focus on the deaths of his own parents. Beatrice always taught him to focus on their lives, what had made them who they were and why they were so important. For someone who lived in the macabre, she always had an optimistic outlook on life. She even told him once that she'd almost become a mortician, and he could believe that. He could believe that woman would have wanted to do anything.

He nodded, a respectful little smile on his face. Well, Harley hadn't lied, she was quite the...interesting woman. He couldn't help but think what a shame it was for the world to lose a personality like her. Sam looked at his girlfriend with wide eyes and a grin, an over exaggerated look of joy at the mention of being welcome to the kitchen. "Big city," he noted, texting out the words. He definitely used his phone a lot more with Harley than he did with other people. He wanted to talk to her more than other people. Not that he half-assed it all the time. "Newfoundland. Wish I had the accent to tell you, but unfortunately..." He shrugged, lifting his eyebrows. "Beatrice is from the Hollow though. Lived here her entire life, I think." It was strange, realizing he didn't know much about her past life when it didn't have to do with his parents. He had just never asked. He didn't think she ever talked about her parents. In actuality, he couldn't write that in confidence. "I don't know," he amended, realizing this, "Hell, she might be from the states." Instead of focusing on the dim past of his mother, he instead texted, "So food?"

Samson shook his head, a small smile on his face. Had he ever been to a hockey game? He went to a baseball game with Beatrice before, she'd gone all out with the jersey, the foam finger, the whole nine yards. He was sure there was a picture of that somewhere. In some dark room that he didn't dare venture in. Sometimes he worried about the things that his mother had around, concerned about what might go on in the dark recesses of the shop. "Of course it was Vancouver, Canada always wins." Yes, he was certainly proud of his country. He grew up here, it was his home. Well, not in the Hollow, but in Canada. The whole country he considered to be his home. He couldn't imagine moving to America, to Jersey where the Devils were from. He was sure it wouldn't be that different, but still, no one wanted to leave the things they loved behind. He loved Canada, he loved everything that he had here. And luckily, there was no reason for him to leave this place. He could stay with Harley as long as he wanted.

At the comment, he waved a hand in front of his face when she said that he would have the sexiest accent. Wouldn't consider it a sexy accent, but it was certainly interesting. Harley brought up a good point then. Wow, that really was strange to consider, but it was definitely more than possible. "I should ask about that, because you're probably right. Wouldn't that be weird?" He looked at the words as he considered them. It was actually rare when he verbally communicated with his mother, it was usually through silent cues. But it would be hard to get such a question across through facial expression. He followed Harley into the kitchen, taking his phone with him. Tying out his words, he put the phone on the counter. "What do you think we can make with veggies?" He wasn't the cook here. If he were, he'd be better suited to live with Beatrice. As it were, he didn't have the best survival skills. God forbid he was stranded on an island. Instead, he went to the cabinets and looked around to see if she could find anything of interest.