& CONTROL YOURSELF, (SKYE)

Samson was close to dozing off in his seat when a familiar voice caused him to slowly open his eyes in what appeared to be a slow blink. Even still, his expression remained the same, stoic and blank as ever. When he recognized Skye, however, he offered her a flicker of a smile that appeared more like a smirk. Despite his behavior, he didn’t give off any hints of being uptight, his body language languid and undisturbed. He nodded his head in greeting, not bothering to use his phone for simple things like this. When it came to pleasantries, he’d just wave or nod. Sometimes, when one was first meeting him, it wouldn’t clue one into the fact that he didn’t just do this because he was the silent type. He often enjoyed the confusion and alarm and sometimes amusement when he pulled out his phone to text a greeting. Samson waved his hand in a sweeping motion, gesturing to the seat next to him and welcoming Skye to sit down. Of course, it wasn’t necessary, but Samson did have a little humor in him. Mostly, it was dickish humor. He wasn’t by definition a nice guy.

The fact that he didn’t right out ignore Skye or otherwise be an asshole to her showed that he actually liked her. Well, he was still a dick to his friends. Light-hearted, of course. In any case, he was usually fine with anyone in his alliance, and the graduate was a chill person. He enjoyed company like that—sometimes, people with too much energy threw him off. Beatrice came to mind, no matter how used to her he had gotten over the years. With his hands folded on his stomach as he leaned back, Samson shrugged. He shifted and pulled his phone out of his pocket then, and texted out, ”I suppose. Cold isn’t very welcome.” He didn’t go into detail about the lady problems he’d been having that had since been resolved—because he still felt guilty about what he did to Harley, and was freaked out enough by Jolene that he was interested in getting a restraining order. He didn’t hide things. If Skye asked, he’d be happy to oblige her about how things with Harley were doing…well, that would be easier if he were more certain. He felt like she should hate him for what he did, and the guit wouldn’t go away.

That would have taken a lot more words than he’d have wanted to use, of course. He reserved his capacity to converse for the friends he felt like talking to, and Skye was one of them. Even then, it was kept to a minimum. He had come to a point where he didn’t get many cramps anymore from all the texting he did, but he was still quiet and withdrawn by nature. Perhaps it was because of the fact he was a Thunder—that was probably it as a matter of face. He inclined his head toward Skye, lifting his eyebrows in a silent return of the question. As usual, he went by the belief that the simplest of things could be communicated through body language. He’d had years of practice with it, at least. Especially since he could communicate with Beatrice using no words at all. He barely spoke to the woman, and yet they interacted and communicated every day.

Samson played around with his phone, keeping his attention on Skye at the same time. He liked to think of the irony that texting people during conversation was considered rude, and yet that was how he had to speak. Of course, he could also use ASL for those who knew it. He’d only met one person, an Earth student named Ari, and they hadn’t talked since their meeting last year. Of course, some of his friends showed an interest in learning, and though it took a lot to keep him from teaching them useless hand gestures and actually help them out, he was willing to oblige. If he liked you and wanted to make it easier to converse with you, then he was one able to help. He spead his hands wide when she commented on him looking comfortable, contorting his face into an expression that resembled a silent acceptance. He liked talking to Skye—she wasn’t annoying. Even though he wasn’t one easily perturbed, he met quite a few people in the past who simply rubbed him the wrong way. Energetic people had a habit of doing that, which is why he enjoyed the Thunders and their isolation.

He was glad to hear the girl say she was doing all right. ”Yeah, women can get like that,” he texted out with a straight face. Of course, anyone who knew him understood that he respected woman. Even though what he did to Harley was something that he believed was cause for shame. In general, he may have teased the ladies, but he was still respectful. It may have been the combination of the interactions he witnessed between his parents when they were still alive—they were sarcastic assholes to each other, but the love was always apparent—and Beatrice’s lectures. ”Were you trying to do anything specific?” was the next thing he showed her on the screen. When someone got as close as Skye—which wasn’t too close, but he didn’t have any ‘best’ friends save for Harley—they got his attention and his efforts to actually hold a conversation.

Samson waved his hand, the gesture as nonchalant as her ‘apology’ had been. ”Wasn’t doing anything,” he texted out. ”Your presence is actually welcome. More than other times, because you know how annoying you are.” He was of course messing with the older Thunder since she didn’t even touch ‘annoying’ at all. If Samson could take the time to talk to you, you were obviously someone that was pretty tolerable. If he thought everyone to be annoying, then he wouldn’t have many friends, now would he? And even though he didn’t have a very large circle, he at least kept a good amount of acquaintances and people he could talk to on a regular basis.

It was nice to have people around who had a sense of humor, and he rather enjoyed joking and finding out about others’ sense of humor. Simply because he grew up with so many forms of it. His parents were much like him, but Beatrice was…undesrcribable. Eccentric would be the best word to use, and he humor fell under that category. He knew that some of the friends he brought over wondered at times whether she was really like that or just being funny. Samson let them try to figure it out for themselves. He never had Skye over, but his home open to anyone. Especially because it was also a shop. ”I’ll make sure to do that,” he said. Taking the time to read his texts was sure to shut people up, unless they were talented at reading and speaking in coherent sentences at the same time. If he ever found someone like that, he wouldn’t know what to do with them. It was kind of unnerving to think of.

Samson nodded, his fingers busy again as he texted his next words. ”That’s a lot of homework you have there,” it said. Again, joking, because he figured that her books were in the bag. Especially when she glanced at it like it had just puked all over her shoes. ”Procrastination is more important, I understand.” He made sure to always do his homework, as he was a bit of a dork. He didn’t hang around friends all too much, he had to admit, didn’t go to parties because it was difficult for him to socialize and meet new people. What wasn’t difficult was to write, since he uses it to communicate anyway. He was almost beyond hand cramps and other annoyances by this point, and he could text pretty damn fast. These were little, innocuous things he took pride in. They wouldn’t matter to anyone else who wasn’t mute, but they mattered to him, especially since he actually enjoyed conversing to his friends like Skye.

He had half a mind to shake the phone around to piss her off, but thought better of it. At least for now. He didn’t need to be a jerk all the time, even though he would gain some amusement from whatever reaction he got. You’re an ass, he acknowledged, but shrugged it off. At least he had the potential to be a decent guy sometimes. He supported his friends and he minded his own business. There wasn’t much that he disliked about himself. Well, he disliked the choices he made, but other than that he was pretty content. His thoughts were interrupted when she thwacked him on the head, and he pretended to wince and gave her a quizzical look as he lifted his hands in front of him. He then crossed his arms with her next statement, pretending to give her the silent treatment. It was pretty easy for him, as one would assume. No one ever threatened him wit the silent game before, because he was the master, and he could work his way around that just by writing down his words. Then she spoke again, and he held up one hand as if telling her to brace herself as he texted with the other. ”It’s because I’m awesome, and you’re just jealous. You like basking in my glory, it’s cool.” He even spared longer texts for joking, even though it was always hard to tell with him and his constantly serious expression. He was almost a statue for all intents and purposes. ”Truth be told, I am the one who has to put up with you and your abuse.” He shrugged and tilted his head.

Lacing his hands behind his head, phone in his lap, he lifted his chin as if agreeing with matters of procrastination. Of course, he wasn’t one immune to the trap, though he did like to get his work done. No one ever said you weren’t allowed to take breaks during. He picked up the phone to text, ”Need any help, Ms. Graduate?” It was true, she was older than him, so even if she needed help, he probably wouldn’t be able to provide it. However, he liked to consider himself smart. Well, he was dilligent at least, worked hard and kept up in classes. He also took an interest in his studies, which was a plus. He was even willing to help out other people. As unfriendly as he could sometimes come off as, he was a pretty decent guy. How else would he have friends like Skye? She was a chill girl, which he appreciated, and she obviously went along with his joking seamlessly. He had no problems with helping her out.

He pursed her lips as if considering Skye’s statement, taking his time before texting, ”Okay, I am. But that’s because you’re so pretty.” If it was any other guy, this may have counted as flirting, but Samson was keeping up his ball-busting as usual. Plus, he had a girl he loved and they were making things work again. It may not have been perfect, what with all the guilt he felt, but it was what he wanted. Harley was the best thing that had ever happened to him, especially when he learned that she wasn’t like the other girls he had the misfortune of dating. With his love life, either he or the girl he was dating screwed up big time and it was strange having such a long-lasting relationship. They had been together for over a year, not counting the little mishap with Holene. ”I’m not mean, I’m lovingly assholish.” After he typed this, he nodded as if to reinforce. Clearing the screen, he texted out next, ”Admit it, you wouldn’t like me as much if I wasn’t mean. You’re a masochist.”

Samson rolled his eyes at the pack mule comment. It was one of his favorite expressions, he found, because it conveyed so much. Especially with Beatrice. Her antics often resulted in that kind of reaction from him. He actually couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t a snarky asshole—it hadn’t just began to steel himself against his adoptive mother. Maybe it came from his parents, who shared a similar sense of humor. He wondered sometimes what kind of relationship they’d have if they were alive during his teenage years, if they’d be as relaxed as Beatrice when it came to his life. He didn’t linger long on this. He was happy with Beatrice, she was a good mother to him. She could never replace his real mother, but she was close to him in that way. No one could ever be replaced by anyone else in his mind. He tilted his head, giving the girl a withering look, his fingers moving along the keyboard. Another good thing with all the experience he had in typing—he didn’t even have to look at the keyboard. Like most people who text, he memorized all the keys. ”You have to stop comparing me to an animal, it’s debasing.”

That’s what she made him sound like, and it was very funny to him, even though he kept his expression smooth, even when he felt her hand on his head. Samson knew some people who detested even being touched, but he never minded it. Even thought those kind of people were weird, unless it was some kind of phobia they couldn’t control. ”Unrequited love is a bitch, ain’t it?” It made him think of Jolene, and he was kind of sorry for her. He had used her, that was horrible of him and he admitted that, but he wasn’t aware of her own feelings. The boy had simply assumed that she’d know given the fact hat it had been such a short time after breaking up with Harley. Actually, they hadn’t even broken up. There was just too much regret there. ”I’m not ashamed,” he texted out, ”And I guess you aren’t ashamed of your masochism. Now I understand our relationship. No need for Dr. Phil.”

Samson observed her, a pitying glance as if he could never return her love. He patted his chest, showing that he felt her pain, really felt it in his heart. Oh no, he was not a sympathetic person. Perhaps it was one of his downfalls. He just didn’t relate easily with people. Or maybe that was just what came in toe with being human. It wasn’t normal for him to meet sympathetic people, or maybe he just had bad experience. No, he knew it was because of the environment he was raised in. He grew up around the alliance, the Fires and Thunders. While the Fires may have been loyal as all get out, they were hardly sympathetic. And Thunders were worse—they lacked loyalty until it really counted, and mostly for themselves. He could count himself among them, and he was not ashamed. In his mind, it didn’t mind whether or not you understood someone’s tragedies and downfalls. In the end, it was about you. Of course, there were people who wormed their way through this sort of thinking—Beatrice, Harley, and Skye, for instance. If he grew up around the Earths, maybe. But then again, he’d have to be an Earth.

Perhaps it was his thinking—the fact that there were exceptions to his selfish rule—that made him able to joke around like this. At least he was self-aware. That wasn’t saying a lot, considering he made mistakes like anyone else. But at least it was better than being ignorant to his own ways. ”I’m an asshole, and that’s why you hang around me. Simple diagnosis” He let this statement stand for a while before clearing his screen. White again. Then more words. ”I’m pro at everything. It’s a shame that you can’t step up to my level. But that’s all right.” He leaned over and patted her knee consolingly, as if her lack of professional intel made her into a pet. He played the asshole well. But it wasn’t just playing. ”Anyway, I think you should be doing homework. Your lack of intellect is seriously concerning me.” …And he just didn’t let up. Of course not.