Participants:
| Scene Title | Mother And Child Reunion |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | …is only motion away |
| Date | December 13, 2010 |
Chicago — Dunham Residence
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
The beauty of winter both chills and warms. The bite of Jack Frost and nip of the Snow Queen magically insight images of inescapable deep freeze— of death and dying. Yet, the sheer beauty of the winter sky could inspire others hearts to warm like hot cocoa following an excursion outdoors.
The snow falls gently like glitter in the sun, slowly cascading to the ground amid the chilly winter air. A gust of a wind brushes against the car, sending the ice-sparkles towards the side of the car, kicking them up like some grand dusting of glitter on the Chicago ground.
The car had pulled up across the street from the house nearly ten minutes ago, but the passenger has, like a living statue, only feigned to stare at it from afar. The flood of memories that accompany this area bring butterflies to her stomach her she gapes slightly at the home ahead.
She’s been here many times before. Samara grew up in this house; just down the block from her best friend Rue, and close enough to school to walk. The porch swing on the front porch peels with the blue paint she’d insisted it needed four and a half years ago, the summer before she’d ‘died’. They hadn’t the heart to change it since.
Her eyes finally close as she takes a slow deep breath. Courage isn’t something new to the eldest Dunham girl, although courage exists in so many different forms. Sam had always loved climbing the highest point, taking on the most daring challenge, and conquering the most intimidating feats. Yet this, seeing her family for the first time since her rebirth has her feeling highly intimidated.
Swallowing hard she tugs the husky hat tighter over her ears and manages a flicker of a smile only to blush slightly. She’d never been allowed one of those hats growing up, it had been considered nothing but a fanciful want, completely impractical in the ‘real’ world. Her pinkened lips press firmly together as she supplants it from her head and combs her hair with her fingers, attempting to smooth down the auburn mess of static. With a heavy sigh she gently tames the most staticky of them all before sighing. “Maybe this was a bad idea?”
A low whistle is given at the house. "Hey.. If I don't break up with you, and your parents die." Brian drums his fingers on the wheel idly. "We could have a porch swing. I have always wanted a porch swing. I don't think you understand how much I want a porch swing." His eyes are glued on it, his brows arching somewhat. The excited look is broken by Samara's annoying second-guessing. Yes, this is all very difficult but… porch swing!
He's done his best to look presentable. In fact he most likely worried more about what he was going to wear than Samara did. Changing this jacket, throwing away those pleated pants, trying different shoes. Finally he settled on a nice brown leather jacket, a casual dress shirt and slacks. Cutting the ignition to the vehicle, his look over at her inaudibly communicates his opinion of her backing out.
But the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
"If you want to go back, we can go back. Even though this would be a ridiculous waste of gas in today's economy. But I will support whatever decision you make. But.. You know that if we go back, you'll just feel bad and want to come again. So.. What's it going to be?"
Now it's Samara's turn to stare at the swing, "We could have a porch swing even if they don't die— " Her nose wrinkles moments later with mild disdain, "— maybe not that one. Tahir used to sit on it with all of his lady friends." She cringes a little and shudders to remove the notion of her brother and all of his wimminz. "Did I ever tell you I saw him? Or… he saw reflection me and lost track of— you know what," she waves a hand flippantly while her head shakes, "You don't want to hear this story." She doesn't want to remember it.
"You're right," Sam whispers while shifting in her seat. "If I get into Humanis First… then I won't be able to visit for awhile." Or ever. Of course, that particular concern isn't actually spoken. She tugs the mirror down in the passenger side visor, inspecting herself one last time before taking a deep breath and then pinching her cheeks for a faint blush.
The passenger door opens and Samara ducks out of the car, stepping around the car and lingering just shy the driver's door, awaiting her companion.
I cant for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
"No. Pretty sure they have to die for porch swings." He grins a little bit. "You told me, you told me before you could talk. So I'm pretty sure I got the cliff notes. You found him with a woman right. And he acted like a toolbox. But I haven't heard the whole thing. Because you only know letters. We ought to teach you more sign language just in case you go Casper again."
Opening the door, Brian steps out of the driver side.Locking the car, the doors swing closed. Stepping out, he instinctively reaches for her hand. Giving it a firm squeeze, he leans in to plant a kiss on her cheek. "Want me to go in first and like.. Tell them? Or do you just want to have them faint at the doorway?"
The squeeze earns Brian a wry— albeit nervous— smile that relaxes amid closed eyes as he kisses Sam’s cheek. Samara squeezes his hand back while her lips twitch slightly. “Maybe… maybe you should go first.” Her gaze flits back towards the house, “I don’t want to kill either of them and judging from the reactions I’ve got as a reflection ghost…” She winces a little as that perfect porch and white front door. “They’re good people. Try to be… gentle… and if they don’t believe you— just appeal to mom. Dad isn’t… just… try to talk to mom.“ At this she nods. “Dad’s too logical to easily buy into anything. Mom is more whimsical…” Her eyebrows furrow as she leans against the car.
"Okay. Go hide in a bush. You better not run away while I'm in there. If I say, I'll prove it to you! Then come back out here and you're gone. I'll kill you for real." Bending down some he goes to make eye contact with her. "You're going to do fine." Giving her a gentle smile, he reaches up and gives her shoulders a gentle squeeze. Another kiss is pecked against her forehead, taking a single step back he rolls on his heel. Spinning around Winters steps up towards the beautiful white american home. Taking his own stabilizing deep breath, he reaches up.
Pausing abruptly, he half turns, motioning for Samara to get out of sight. Then he's facing the door once again. Three solid knocks are given. A single step back and a deep breath. Hands are shoved into his pockets. No jokes Brian. No jokes! No jokes!
"Where would I go? I'm pretty sure I can't remember how to drive a car and the bus station is a long way from here and I need to eat or something these days no more random roaming and hopping transport wherever I can— " nerves make her talk even faster. If Samara is a chatterbox, adrenaline makes her a chipmunk chatterbox talking a million miles a minute. Promptly, she bites her tongue, shifting distinctly on her feet and strolling off to the bushes. She lingers there in her black pants and heavy peacoat, shoving her hands in her pocket, ready and able to overhear whatever will transpire at the door.
I know they say let it be
But it just dont work out that way
From the outside, there's a distinct sound of shuffling inside. A female voice calling about something rather calls from behind the door and is met with a lower pitched, male voice. The actual words are indiscernible for some time until the light flicks on in the entrance, visible through a small curtained window beside the door. "It's not Adisa— " the male voice calls back, turning away from the door as the deadbolt is clicked and the door cracks open.
The man that answers— Christopher Dunham— has reddish brown hair, similar to that of his eldest daughter although fading in its brilliance through old age. His blue jeans and long sleeved t-shirt are indicative of some casual way about him, but then, here he is at home. The man's eyebrows furrow as he issues the stranger a small smile, "We're not interested. We go to church up the road and are really devoted to it, and if you're selling something… well, we're not interested in that either. We have everything we need, so.. " He manages a flash of teeth and a small shrug of his shoulders.
Her father's voice actually creates butterflies in the pit of Sami's stomach as she draws her arms over herself. In those butterflies one thing remains: a sparkle of hope.
Brian's mouth starts to open as the door swings, but he pauses as the man starts speaking. His mouth opens again… No jokes! Clamping shut, Brian returns an awkward smile, opening his mouth again. "Christopher Dunham? Sorry. I'm not selling a church. Sorry to disrupt your evening. Or interrupt your evening." He gives a somewhat nervous smile. "I'm not selling anything. I uh.. I just drove here from New York. My name is Brian Winters. I'm an investigator from New York. I.. I have some news you will want to hear. If I could have just a minute of you and your wife's time?" His hands stay glued into his pockets as he smiles gently at the other man.
Christopher's eyes narrow at the words, and his smile fades, "New York?" After repeating the place he shakes his head, "What did Tahir get into now? We were so sure— " his gaze flits to the ground before he turns around entirely twisting towards the inside of the house, "Janie! I think you should come to the door. There's an investigator here from New York— "
From the other end of the house, the female voice calls back, "What did Tahir do now? Or did Adisa find her way— " as the words are spoken the get louder, sounding less echoey as she continues to speak. Within moments the door is opened further, producing Jane Dunham in an oversized pink button-up paint shirt, and a faded pair of well worn blue jeans. Her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail and a distinct streak of grey lines her face— the dulled colour of clay. Like the streak over her face, the woman's hands are caked in that same earthen material. Unlike her husband there's no skepticism in her countenance, and her smile is broad, toothy and easy. "Hello— " her voice isn't as singsong as her eldest daughters, but there is a brighter quality to her words than her husband's. "— Jane Dunham. I'm sorry, I'd shake your hand, but," she splays them for him to see only to wince-shrug moments later. "What is this about exactly?" Her eyes roll a little, "Please tell me it's not Adisa. She only just got to her grandparents a week ago…"
"Uhm. Sorry to do this, but do you think I could come in for a minute? You might want to be sitting down for this." Brian shakes his head lightly to himself. "You want to be seated for this." He affirms. "It is about your children, but, I can assure you that this is good news. If rather shocking." He gestures one hand towards the hallway as if motioning for them to let him in. "May I come in?"
Jane and Christopher exchange one of those meaningful glances, culminated by nearly thirty years of marriage, that silently displays an unspoken intrigue or, perhaps, an unspoken dread. This wouldn't be the first time some random investigator showed up at their house from New York wanting to come inside. Jane easily moves out of the way to allow Brian inside, but Chris lingers a moment, fighting against some unspoken urge to close the door, but with a soft smile from his wife, he's shuffling out of the way.
"Please… come in," she grins as she motions towards a living room just off the entrance. "Have a seat… I just need to wash my hands. Do you want anything to drink, Mister— ?" Before Brian has a chance to respond, Jane has slipped out of the room, off towards the kitchen.
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
All the while Chris lingers in the entrance until finally turning towards the living room and assuming what is presumably his chair— a large oversized la-z-boy. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest while he forces a very tight-lipped smile for the sake of his too-excited-to-play-hostess wife. "So…" His jaw tightens while he cranes his neck towards the kitchen, unable to get a glimpse of Jane all the while. "…you watch the Bulls?"
Brian is fortunately rescued by the reentrance of Missus Dunham. Her eyes brighten warmly as she lowers a tray with a large jug of lemonade and three glasses. It may be chilly outside, but lemonade is an old stand-by for unexpected company. And after the last official news froM New York, Jane needed something to distract herself. Drinking lemonade seemed as appropriate as anything. Her lips twitch with a nervous smile as she perches on the couch.
Catching that unspoken nervous edge, Chris leans forward and reaches out for his wife's hand which he gives a tight squeeze. She can't seem to find words so he speaks instead, "So why are we sitting?"
Giving an appreciative smile to Jane, Brian glances to Chris somewhat wearily before stepping in rapidly for fear of actually being closed out. Shuffling in, he looks after Jane who he instantly likes more. "Winters. Brian Winters." He smiles brightly after her. "I'm fine thank you." Looking back to Chris he gives a light shrug as if to quell the anger that Chris about to feel. It's a 'not my fault' shrug. "Kings actually. I'm originally from California.. So.. yeah. Kings." He's not about to admit that he's a Packer fan. That would be a bad idea.
Looking gratefully back to Jane, he smiles brightly. "Thank you Mrs. Dunham." He says amiably before looking back to Chris. Reaching for his glass, he goes to take his own seat. Sipping lightly despite being 'fine', he finds having something in your hand and an excuse to pause in talking helps quell the nerves. An inevitable smile flicks over his lips when the back of his mind wanders to the fact that he's broken into the Pentagon and now he's nervous.
"You are familiar with the term SLC expressive?" Winters asks softly, putting his glass down. Folding his hands into his lap, he straightens up somewhat. "The scientific term for the slang of being evolved. I am sure you are aware of abilities. I myself am SLC expressive, and I have news that at least one of your children is SLC expressive as well. These abilities can range in advantages and some can survive disastrous incidents." He looks up for a little signal to keep going.
"SLC Expressive," Chris repeats incredulously as he reaches for a glass all his own, releasing his wife's hand for a few moments. Any discussion about SLC expressiveness doesn't exactly require support. The entire topic renders Chris even more silent; he's rather ambivalent about the whole evolved phenomenon thanks to what happened in New York four years ago. His glass is promptly brought to his lips as he downs the entire glass leaving no excuse to pause, but an empty glass with which to occupy his hands.
Jane, however, is warmer about the entire thing. Her lips curl up into an easier smile at the topic. "Tahir is registered SLC-expressive or evolved…" talking about any of her children brings about a small sparkle in her eyes, "or… whatever they're calling it these days." She waves a hand flippantly as she leans forward in her chair. "There is something extraordinary about humanity, isn't there? What it's capable of…"
Ok. Setup, check. Time to kick into overdrive. "Tahir is not the only of your children that is evolved. Let me continue some individuals who are evolved don't at first have much control over their ability, or at all." He looks to Jane in a 'please don't kick me out' way. "Jane, I'm going to talk to you, because she told me to." Winters murmurs, starting to talk a little faster. "Your daughter, Samara is SLC expressive. She lost control of her ability during the bomb and for four years has not been able to control it. She just recently been taken out of her incorporeal state." He delivers a look to Chris, and starts to talk a little louder and firmer in case he becomes angry papa bear.
"If you recall you saw Samara's face in reflections not too long after her so called death. Because of my relationship with her, I know that your son Tahir did not come to her funeral. I also know that your daughter Adisa raided her room not too long after." Yuck. "I also know that you, Chris, are probably not going to listen to me right now. But Jane I would not fuck with you." His hands come up as if to cement the point. "I can prove it."
"Your daughter is alive."
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
Jane's smile fades as Brian begins to explain. Her head tilts, her body leans forward, and her hands fold together atop her knees. Her reactions are easily dulled by the words, the reverberation of them echoing through the room as the heaviness of her shoulders increases, slouching her further over her knees. The last sentence actually has her dropping her glass to the floor, causing it to shatter with a loud crash that she doesn't even react to.
During the explanation, Christopher rises to his feet, "You need to leave." The words are matter of fact as he trudges towards the door, "Look Mister Winters, I don't know if you think this is some kind of sick joke but my wife and I have only started to move on! It's been years and playing some joke— you need to leave. Now." His tone is dead serious as he actually turns the doorknob again.
With a small twitch, Jane blinks hard, coming out of her state of shock. She swallows hard and her voice gets stuck in her throat in a croaky whisper, "Where is she?"
"You're going to believe this bullshit?! Janie— You can't get your hopes up every time some punk-kid comes by and tries to convince us that Sami is coming back. She's not. It's been four years…"
But Jane won't be so easily deterred. She draws her arms around herself as her eyes turn glassy. "Where is she?"
But the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
Even though the father of his girlfriend in concept is scary, Brian's action mode kicks in when the man stands up. Features going emotionless, his gaze diverts from Chris as if he can't see the man. His eyes trailing over to Jane, giving a slow solid nod. Pressing his hands against his knees he go to stand up. "She's waiting outside. If you wait here, I'll go get her." Glancing over to Chris he looks back to Jane. "Tell him not to try to hit me."
His gaze stays trained on Chris as he takes a few cautious steps through the living room back towards the doorway. Not giving the older man his back, he edges his way towards the door carefully. Only then does he open the door and turn around quickly. Skipping outside the house he takes a deep breath before rounding somewhat. His eyes swing this way and that in search of his ghostgirlfriend.
Brian manages to skitter past Chris easy enough, particularly at Jane's haphazard nod. There's no denying she's stunned, but her eyes reflect something uncommonly grounding: hope— the same hope that Sam had found when the idea of becoming tangible finally set in.
CREEEEEAK
Once outside, Samara is easy enough to find. She'd found a spot on her porch swing rather than the bushes where she'd originally perched. The peeling paint does nothing to discourage her position. Brian's exit, however, has her standing, causing the porch to creak underneath the pressure. Her lips twitch slightly as she slides forward to take his hand, easily slipping hers into his— if he'll have it. Goosebumps form along her arms and the back of her neck, the eerie feeling of seeing someone for the first time in ages wearing on her. "So?" she finally asks.
"Hey." He says softly, looking over to her with a gentle smile. As she stands up, his hand instinctively wraps around hers. Fingers interlocking immediately. Leaning down, he goes to plant another kiss against her forehead. "Your mom's hot. I think I have to break up with you." Winters grins, he had to hold back jokes for like five entire minutes. It's time to let them out. "I think I might get into a fight with your dad in order to display who's the dominant male." He gives a little shrug.
"It went as well as telling Casper's parents that Casper isn't an adorable little ghost but a pubescent boy who probably will have drug issues in a year or two." Turning to face the door he gives her hand a squeeze. "Okay. I'm done. Sorry. You look great. Let's go." And with that, he tugs her back into the house, standing close to her, his hand tight around hers.
Sami suppresses a nervous chuckle at the joke about her mom. “She’s also really talented. It’s intimidating to be her daughter. And I wouldn’t challenge Dad… he may be a doctor, but he can be scary if he wants. Sometimes.” She fights the nervous smile that creeps over her features while she gives Brian’s hand a quick squeeze. “Thank you,” she whispers softly as she takes one last relaxing breath before being tugged inside.
Samara fights through those nerves as she reenters her childhood home for the first time in ages. She stiffens and lingers in the entranceway, unsure what to say or how to act around her parents who believed her dead until a few short moments ago. She forces a sad rather forlorn smile as she fights the butterflies consuming her insides, opening her mouth to speak.
Chris literally gapes at his daughter as she stands in the entrance. He hadn’t feigned to establish hope even in light of Brian’s words. His shock is evident and akin to his wife’s only moments earlier. He presses off the wall, but can’t make himself move yet, just staring at Sam and then Brian and then back, his gaze remaining on his former ghost of a daughter.
I just cant believe its so,
And though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
There are no words that could contain this moment. No sounds that could be uttered to express the whole range of emotions in this room. Jane Dunham doesn’t even attempt them. Her lips press firmly together as her chin quivers with that range. She presses her palms against the couch, pushing herself into a standing position, while the mother sucks back the tears that cannot be kept from running down her cheeks. Her arms extend to her daughter, and without invitation, the woman engulfs Samara in a motherly embrace. A single hand grasps the back of Sami’s head while the other pulls her close in that unrelenting hug, tightening firmly as the tears run down the mother’s cheeks.
As she’s tugged into the embrace, Samara’s hand drops from Brian’s. Her arms enfold around her mom, returning that warm hug. Her own chin quivers with emotion as her tears dampen Jane’s shoulder. Sami gasps for air underneath the pained emotion. “Mom. Daddy,” she whispers their names. After what seems like ages, Sam releases the embrace to hug her father who still hasn’t quite snapped out of his shock. The twenty-year-olds arms wrap around him tightly as she buries her head to his chest, holding him tightly. And it’s in the hug that he reanimates, returning to reality, and slowly returning the hug.
Meanwhile, Jane wipes her eyes along her sleeve, but the tears of immense joy won’t stop flowing. Amid the mess of emotion she is, she steps towards Brian and manages to express some gratitude, “Thank you.”
As Samara releases his hand, they clasp in front of him as he watches Samara's back. A light smile forming up on his lips as he watches the joyous reunion. Lowering his head some, he takes a couple shuffle steps back to be out of the way of unification of part of the Dunham family. An almost triumphant smirk is flicked at Chris when he comes back to life and hugs his daughter. Told you so dickhead. His light smile remains on his lips until Jane approaches him.
Shaking his head as if to say nothing of it, "It's no problem. I'm.." Ah. Hell. "I'm dating your daughter by the way. I'm not really an investigator. Sorry the first thing I said to you guys was a lie." Get used to it! His hand comes forward to shake her hand.
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
"Daddy, I'm okay~" Samara sings gently as she finally lowers her arms from the second hug. She shuffles back towards Brian, allowing him a little space.
Jane's handshake is firm, professional, and accented by cracked dry skin. Her tears have been dried for now, replaced by a warmer smile than before and red puffy eyes. "You brought her home to us. As far as I'm concerned when you bring my daughter home lying is beyond forgivable." However, her head tilts a little with the question on her lips, "How long?" It's not really a question of how long they've been dating but if that's the case then, "Samara Beth Dunham did you neglect to come here first?" Suspiciously, her eyes narrow as she turns back to Sam for a moment.
"Leave her alone, Jane. She just got here," Chris counters as he slides next to his wife and slips his hand to the small of her back.
Conveniently, Sami doesn't quite respond to her mother, instead sidling next to Brian, "I met Brian before… before I could be really seen so…" She shrugs.
As she presses up against him, his hand goes to link up with Samara's. Brian smiles a little bit over at her, giving her hand a light squeeze. To Jane's question, Brian speaks up. "It's my fault. As you may know, New York is going through some rough times. It's not exactly easy to get around there. And.. well things are difficult. So we came as soon as we could. It might have been a little longer.. But. It's also not necessarily easy to come back to life."
"Don't tell them that, you'll make me sound like a weirdo who talks to invisible people." He gives a bright white smile to her parents as if they couldn't hear that last part. Glancing to Chris, "Nice to meet you sir." He adds in just for good measure. Offering him his free hand. "My name really is Brian though. So.. yeah. Hi."
Chris extends his hand to Brian and issues him a crisp handshake. "Thank you for bringing Sam back." His jaw tightens a little, inspecting his eldest daughter's beau. Alive or not, some things remain. "You can call me Mister Dunham— "
"Christopher!" Jane reprimands with a shake of her head. "Call us Jane and Chris. Please. You're…" the next word takes some work to utter, but she manages it after a few moments "…adults." Samara, her dead sixteen year old daughter is magically twenty. "Please let me apologize in advance. We… haven't seen our Sami in some time, and last we did… she was sixteen." Not that age would make a difference to Chris. Any young man dating either of his daughters is to be regarded with extreme caution. "You need to stay for dinner. I will make something wonderful and you will stay the night and… we want to hear everything— everything— once we…" her hand moves forward, indicative that they need to get over the shock rather than just linger.
Sami shoots Brian a lopsided grin, an unspoken thank you for taking one for the team, for letting her off the hook this time, particularly regarding coming home. Finding the courage to come back was harder than she'd like to admit. "I… I don't know how much time we have…" her nose wrinkles as she lifts her chin to look up at Brian. "We're trying… New York is a mess. And…" how is she supposed to explain she's trying to infiltrate a terrorist organization to thwart plans, "…we're trying to fix it. I don't think we can be away long. But one night be good. To rest."
"I am an adult, Jane." He smiles, looking defiantly at Chris. "Dinner would be great. And yes, thank you very much for offering to stay. It would be stupid to try and go back tonight." Samara's hand is given a tight squeeze, a little more tight than comfortable or 'sweet'. It's more of a shutup squeeze. "We're a part of a Humanitarian project in the city." He smiles. "You may have heard of the Suresh Center? We work loosely with them. Teaching people to control their powers or, helping the city recover from major disasters like the 8th. Or occasionally bringing young girls back to life."
He smiles easily, relaxing somewhat now that the hard part is done. "We should probably head back tomorrow afternoon, or evening at the latest. And then we should probably break your other children the news that their sibling isn't as dead as they thought. I think Tahir thinks Samara is a ghost right now…?" He glances over to Sam for her to confirm the story or retell it to her liking.
But I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
When the mother and child reu-nion
The squeeze on her hand escalates Samara's eyebrows, but thankfully she lets Brian take over the reasoning for why they have to leave.
"I think I read about them," Jane taps her chin and nods slightly. "They do some important work." She shoots them both a tight, very-mom-ish smile, simultaneously happy and sad. Happy to have her daughter home; sad that they have to leave to soon, but she will take what she can get.
"And yeah, Tay has no idea I'm alive. I couldn't talk when I was all… invisible. So when he caught my reflection I couldn't even reassure him— " Sam bites her bottom lip as she cranes her neck to see down the end of the hall, "Adisa?"
It's Chris' turn to chime in, "At your grandparents." Which Sam knows is code for we couldn't deal with her anymore so we encouraged her to go away for awhile— an activity growing up reserved merely for summers. His gaze shifts to Brian, finally finding thanks of his own, albeit borderline begrudging, "Thanks Winters." And there it is, the name by which Chris plans to call Brian by.
This formality has Jane momentarily frown as she links arms with her husband guiding him back to the kitchen. "Please give us a minute… I need to figure out dinner and could use…" her eyebrows furrow at her husband, a firmer talking-to likely to transpire once out of earshot "…help… but not from either of you. C'mon Chris…" That said, Sam's parents shuffle out of the living room.
Is only a motion away,
Oh, oh the mother and child reunion
Once her parents are out of earshot, Sami relaxes considerably. "Mom likes you," she smiles as she gives his hand a light squeeze of the 'sweet' variety.
"Good. I hope you don't mind me being promoted from your boyfriend to your new father." He grins broadly as her parents make their way to the kitchen. His voice of course, low. Half turning to face her, he bends to press a firm kiss against her lips. Arms snaking around her back briefly. Once he pulls back, "You did it. Feel okay? Do we need to escape? We can run out the door right now if you want. If your mom's cooking is anything like yours, I might encourage that course of action."
Letting his hands rest on her waist, he glances over kitchenwards. "Where is your grandparents? And.. Do you really want to go see whatshisface?" Bending his knees some he goes to rest his forehead against hers.
"Ha! You watch yourself Brian Winters, I might not consider you such a Lady in the end. Especially if Tramps are skanks," Samara's arms encircle his neck reciprocating the kiss in turn. Her arms remain there around his neck as she sighs contently with a deep breath. "I'm oh-kay, actually. And mom cooks better than me. The whole promotion to my new father is a real step up for you." She winks.
"Grandma and Grandpa live just outside New York City. And Tay, well he's in the city. I even know where the apartment is. I think. If I don't get lost." She winks. "Thank you. For coming here. I know it's kind of an awkward way to meet my family, but… it makes this whole coming back from the dead thing easier." Her lips press together as her smile turns shy while her cheeks pinken, "And I kind of wanted you to meet them anyways…"
"Hey.." He says rather somberly all of the sudden when she says she might take back his Lady status. Which makes Brian sad. He grins down at her, allowing his hands to stay on her waist. Though he does send a glance down the hallway every now and then just in case pop pop should come back out. He says he's not scared.. Maybe he's not but… His eyes are awfully errant.
"Of course Sam. It's fine." He grins broadly. "I'm glad you wanted me to meet them. Just.. Well you kind of met my sister but. I mean, that's the only family I can introduce you to. Except, we can go through that picture book Gillian brought back from the past of the future… Or whatever. Anyways. If there's only one bed, you're sleeping on the floor." Kiss. Smile!
Is only a motion away
Oh the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a moment away