Closed RP Full Stop

This RP is currently closed.

So it was a territorial thing. Given he had already said he was in possession of the spirit of a wild dog, territorial made sense. Then he asked his question, and she smiled, sharply. It had been a long time since she had gotten a question like that. She was honestly surprised that Todd hadn’t asked her about it yet. So she tilted her head to the side, the smile still in place, a flash of white teeth in the darkness.

“I hunt people who prey on others. Traffickers, rapists, abusers, serial killers, the like. Human predators. I want to rid the world of scum like that. That’s why I was after them. They deserve to have the shit kicked out of them by a woman half their size.”

She tilted her head back and laughed at that. It wasn’t exactly a joyful laugh or even a gleeful laugh. There was an edge to it, an almost bark that left it sounding spiteful. She looked back over at him, a hardness to her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Anyone who treats humans like prey, they deserve the worst. They deserve shattered kneecaps and severed arms and scorched burn marks.”

As she spoke, the temperature around her began to rise, a testament to her passion. She raised a hand and heatwaves rose from it as she spoke. Some people, Sam firmly believed, deserved the worst punishment imaginable. There wasn’t enough justice in the world to make them pay for their crimes. So sometimes, people like Sam and Connor had to take care of that. She thought of the dead men in the pile of bodies back by the warehouse.

She honestly couldn’t say she was mad about it. She had a strict nonlethal policy for herself– not for others. After her stint in Columbus, she had promised herself that no matter how tempting it might be, she would never actively try to kill someone ever again.

With one exception.​
 

Connor felt the heat and smelled the anger, smelled the passion, the laugh and her smile were a refreshing side; and Connor felt just the barest twinge of a smile that he didn't allow to fully grow. There was a time he spoke like that, long ago now, but he didn't think Phoenix naive or any lesser for this; no, he found it charming, though he wasn't prepared to express that, not when this was Todd's mate. Any familiarity, no matter how innocent, would be a mistake at this stage.

"It's curious that you would phrase it this way," Connor said. "I often hunt humans as prey, when they invade my territory, or when they threaten the balance of nature... is this different? And what of your mate? Todd, he hunts much the same, are these circumstances different? Is the intent what matters? The purpose of the hunt? I wonder by what grace you judge the morality of monsters like us."
 

“You’re both different. You’re predators of predators. You hunt the same people I do. Why would I think what you both do is wrong when I do the same thing? Didn’t I just fight those sad, pathetic excuses for ‘people’ with you? You guys don’t need grace because you’re not monsters.”

This seemed like the obvious answer to Sam. Besides, the only one of them who was a monster was herself. She was the one who had taken such joy and had such an intense release at the death of others. While that was in the past, the violence still gripped her heart like a vise. She still felt the desire to crack skulls open and watch them bleed out as she crushed them into unrecognizable states.

She felt that violence less now, less as her anger slowly ebbed away. Todd was bringing her a kind of peace that took the space the anger occupied, slowly pushing it out of her like an antibiotic fighting a festering infection. She shivered a bit just thinking about how he had pulled her from the void, the void that had looked back at her with such malevolence. If it wasn’t for him, for his touch, for his smile, for his eyes, Sam would have slipped again. She knew it. She could feel that rage overflowing

A wave of heat rolled off her, hot but mild, as she thought of Todd, as her passion for the situation leaked out of her. Her stance only served to highlight her belief in the statement. Then, she smiled, placed her hands on her hips, and shifted her weight. Her ponytail swung and she said, “Besides, the world needs some monsters sometimes. So even if you were monsters, the world still benefits from what you do. That makes you different from the predators who only destroy and hurt and– you’re different. That’s all it boils down to.”​
 


It wasn't the first time he'd heard something like that, in fact there was a time Connor would have said something very similar. When he had thought that what he was hard to be used for some idea of good, some betterment of the world, that no matter what he was the one service he could give was making bad people afraid of the dark. A noble thought, a naive notion.

"I can see why Todd would like you," Connor said. "I've learned that eventually, no matter how much I blend in, no matter how much good I do, it won't matter... I'll always be an animal to them, so an animal is what I must be... alone, folk don't want me, they've made that clear... monsters like us... how welcome we are is always a matter of what we can do for them, if that is ever in question, if it ever becomes too... inconvenient to care for us, then we are cast out... like the dogs we are..."

Connor trailed off, realizing how much he was speaking. He hadn't spoken this much or this deeply to anyone in years, it was like a dam was beginning to crack and leak the raging river it held. It didn't help that for some reason Sam felt... good, friendly, comfortable, he wasn't sure why his gut so easily trusted her with such personal feelings, but it was subtle enough that it had tricked him into revealing much more than he'd ever even allowed himself to admit. So he clamped his mouth shut, he mustn't get too comfortable with her, and reminded himself that he wouldn't be staying here for much longer.

He was provided a convenient distraction as Mac and Brian reappeared, they trotted up and rubbed up against Connor's legs giving small questioning noises which Connor responded with a soft yap of his own to let them know he was okay. They both then looked at Sam, heads tilting, and slowly their tails began to wag; Mac being the more individualist of the two left Connor's side to sniff at Sam, his mouth opening in a dopey dog smile. Connor rolled his eyes, Mac was always a fisher for attention when he could get it.
 

Sam paused and listened to Connor speak. Really listened. A small frown took her face, but before she could respond to him, a pair of massive dogs trotted up. She immediately focused in on them, her left foot tapping quickly. She hadn’t forgotten what Connor had said– she just needed time to put her thoughts in order before she responded to it. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

She was given the perfect opportunity to put off answering when one of his dogs approached her, his tail wagging. A wagging tail was good. Sam tried not to vibrate too hard as she dropped down to her knees and immediately started giving the dog scratches all over his head and jaw. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? Is it you? I think it’s you!”

She didn’t use the baby voice that some people use when they talk to animals, but there was a definitive change in her inflection. It was softer, warmer, and there was a crooning quality to her words. It was obvious she was enamoured by the dog. As she scratched behind his ear, a soft look in her eyes, she finally spoke again.

“You need to find the right people. People are… not great. They’re not really ready for people like, well, us. Metas. Not all people understand or want to understand us. Just because we’re different, they can fear us. It’s not fair. Not at all. But that’s why you have to find the good people, the ones who will accept you. I think if we show them we can do good with our gifts, well. I have some semblance of hope that they will at least let us exist.”

She paused. She hadn't meant to be so serious about her views on metahuman-human relations. But, here they were, and now she felt the desire to say exactly one more thing. She hesitated. She scratched Mac’s chin and then she looked up with her golden eyes so full of gentle concern. I wouldn’t throw you out. If you wanted to try and be friends?”​
 


Connor watched her scratch and praise Mac, his tongue lolling out with joy and his tail wagging furiously, so Brian was whining and sniffing at Sam's hand looking for a share of the attention too. They both had immediately relaxed around her, and even submitted for praise and attention; something they wouldn't do for someone who didn't have a good heart.

The right people, who would that be? Connor had been around the right people before, or so he thought, and they'd either driven him out eventually or he couldn't stay for their sake. He'd tried to do right by them, to use his gifts too good to save, to protect; it hadn't mattered in the end, so he just slowly accepted that was his lot in life. He could deny the truth all he wanted, pretend to be something he wasn't; friend, brother... lover, but there would always be the truth, rearing its head and baring its teeth; one he could not change:

He would always be a monster.

And yet, and yet, he could not deny this yearning in his chest, the soft churning of his heart as Phoenix's voice softened, and her golden gaze met his own. And she said that she wouldn't do that to him, that she was different, he'd heard these words before; promised not always kept. Connor cursed his own heart, though his spirit was wild... Chaoa had once said he was still a man at heart, and it didn't due for any man to be alone. He kn ew this, though he had so often run from this need, he could not truly be alone in the woods forever. He had already fallen victim to his desire for connection already, revealing an inch of himself to this stranger he didn't even know because he truly so cried out for someone, anyone, to reach out to him and not recoil in fear. The fact that he could not escape this was terrifying.

"I haven't had... many friends," Connor said. "I don't know... if I'd make a good one... and I don't know if Todd would like that at all, but if... I wouldn't be... I guess I wouldn't mind it."
 

Sam felt a twinge in her chest at Connor’s words, even as she turned her free hand to the second dog’s ear. She scratched them both across their heads, crooning more compliments and praise at them. Connor’s words struck a chord somewhere inside her, and she shook her head. She got up from her knees, her hands staying in the general vicinity of both dogs.

“Just because Todd and I belong to each other doesn’t mean I can’t have friends, Connor.” She gave him a look that clearly said “come on, man”. She finally withdrew her hands from the dog, placing them on her hips. Her expression turned thoughtful for a moment, and then she pulled out her burner phone from her back pocket. “How about we meet tomorrow? For lunch? I know a great steakhouse with a decent portion-to-cost ratio. I’ll buy. We can try this friendship thing.”

She opened the phone’s information screen to get its number. There was a kind of sadness about Connor that spoke deep to Sam’s heart. There was this air of someone who had been rejected and expected nothing but that. That had been clear in his words, as well as his body language and facial expressions. Everything about this wild dog of a man spoke of sadness, loneliness, and self-isolation. Sam would know all about those things. After all, she was the queen of self-isolation. Before Todd, that was.

She paused and looked over at Connor, shaking her phone a bit before asking, “You have one of these… right?”

Something about him said the chances of him not having a cell phone were… higher than they should be.​
 


Connor got the impression she didn't quite grasp the predator etiquette, not her fault; but as reasonable as it was in a human sense that they could become friends, it was an invitation for trouble. Phoenix was Todd's territory, it would be a blatant violation if Todd so chose to take it that way, but Connor figure maybe... maybe he wouldn't mind? In his swirling mix of emotions, Connor attempted to rationalize why he was about to accept this offer in a way that didn't admit the fact that he didn't want to be alone.

He padded his pockets, he had a lot of pockets, and eventually he did find the old Nokia phone; the thing still ran and still had service; Connor had never paid a bill in his life, but he knew it could make and receive calls. His oversized fingers tapped the buttons, which beeped in response, as he frowned and tried to remember where you found phone numbers in these things; he sort of hunched over in embarrassment, technology wasn't really his element.

"I haven't used one in... a long time," Connor said, eventually he did find the number and offered it to Phoenix. "Lunch sounds... nice, but I don't really... I can't eat like most folk... mostly eat meat, red meat... raw preferably but extra rare is fine."
 

Sam chuckled a little as Connor struggled with his ancient phone. She took the number and added it to her contacts, then she paused and looked up at him. He seemed so… nervous. Or maybe that was shyness? Either way, his slow and paced speech made her smile softly. She sighed and scratched her hairline. “Well we’ll be going to the right place then. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know where to go”

She started to walk backward, away from him, and then she stopped and smiled one last time. “My name is Sam, by the way. I’ll see you tomorrow, Connor.”


The next day, Sam called Connor at eleven a.m. and gave him the name of the restaurant. At eleven-thirty she was there, waiting just inside the doors on one of the benches. They had offered to seat her twice while she waited, and while Sam was fairly confident that Connor could find her in the restaurant even with all the different people and food, she didn’t want to risk the off chance he couldn’t. So instead she waited by the door.

It gave her some time to reflect on the previous night. She hadn’t learned much about the man himself, given the questions she had asked had been, well. More ways for her to figure out Todd than for her to figure out Connor. She would have to change that. Friends asked friends about themselves– she thought. It had been years since she’d had a friend. What she had with Todd, the mine, was about as far removed from friendship as you could get. She was going to have to relearn friendship.​
 


Connor couldn't remember the last time he'd been to a restaurant.

When Sam called him, it took him a minute or two to figure out how to answer the phone. She gave him the restaurant time and said she'd meet him there, talking over the phone was worse than talking to her in real life, not being able to perceive her made him feel blind; so he barely managed to affirm he understood. Afterwards, he realized he didn't really know where the restaurant was, she hadn't left an address, just a name; it doesn't sound like a chain or anything, but he still didn't know where it was.

He had gotten into his Range Rover after spending the night in a random park, thinking at first to drive around until he found the restaurant. But after a few turns of the key, the engine spluttered and shook and offered no life, it wouldn't be taking him anywhere. Connor sighed, he probably should take the damn thing to a mechanic, or steal a new one. Either way, he was on foot for now; he pushed the Range Rover into a secluded corner somewhere it wouldn't get broken into. He let Mac and Brian out and send them away to explore, they'd find him later.

Connor did spent an amount of time deciding whether to take his weapons with him. His sword would have to be left behind, his revolver too, probably; he didn't think he'd be attacked... but you never did know, did you? Connor kept his bowie knife tucked in his inside coat pocket; such that no one would ever notice it was there. He did give a thought to changing his clothes, as these were the same ones he'd worn last night... and the last week; but he realized he was out of clothing that was undamaged. So he continued on in what he was wearing; old worn jeans tucked into knee-high leather boots, a large flannel overskirt, and his hunting coat. All of which was a tad tattered with cuts and a few bullet holes, even faint traces of blood.

He set out walking but realized very quickly he wasn't going to find the restaurant this way; he'd checked the road maps he usually had with him, and they weren't much help. Connor felt slightly frustrated, he could find any animal anywhere with just a whiff of its scent, but he couldn't find a damn restaurant. Why were cities like this? Why were there so many people around? Talking, breathing, making so much noise. Wait, people, people knew where things were.

Connor walked up to about ten or twelve people and asked bluntly where the restaurant was, most of them either didn't know or were to put off by his straightforward nature and overbearing presence. Eventually he was given clear enough directions that he could find the place, the whole process arriving him at the establishment at eleven forty-five. Connor walked in and immediately spotted Sam there waiting for him, he stared at her for a moment; taken aback that she was actually here and intended to... spend time with him? It took him a second to realize he should greet her.

"Hello," he said. "I found my way."
 

Sam’s face lit up and she stood up. She looked small swaddled up in a black turtle neck, a hoodie, and a leather jacket on top. The hoodie was overside on her, reaching halfway down her jean-clad thighs. For the beginning of November, she was way overdressed, in a way that should have left her sweltering. And yet, she seemed perfectly fine in it.

Not only did the layers hide the way the suit contoured and compressed her body, but they also kept some of her heat in and prevented it from flooding the spaces she entered. She gave a little wave, and the leather jacket pulled back just enough on her wrist to show the stuffed sleeves of the hoodie. Not a single hint of red could be seen through the layers. “Hi, Connor. Ah, I realized after I had hung up that I hadn’t exactly told you how to get here, so I’m glad you made it! Come on, let’s go get a table.”

Sam led him inside the restaurant and to the hostess’s podium. They were quick to pass them off to a waitress who led them to a booth a little ways away from any of the other diners. The place was quiet, the lights a bit dimmer than the outside sun, which let Sam’s eyes rest. She refocused her eyes, allowing her pupils to expand. While they were looking at the menu, a different waitress appeared.

“Hello, welcome in, can I get you guys something to drink to start with? Are you guys on a date? A couple of redheads is so cute!”

Sam looked up with sharp eyes, an immediate feeling of… something filling her. She didn’t like that insinuation. Not even an insinuation, but a blatant assumption. She smiled, all teeth and nothing friendly about it, and looked up and said in a flat tone, “He’s my brother.”

She didn’t know why she lied instead of just correcting her, but between Sam’s sharp smile and her lie, the waitress paled and apologized, took their drink orders, and left. She sighed softly, trying to let the tension and strange feeling ease out of her. She looked across the booth to Connor and gave a sideway, apologetic smile, this time without teeth and more warmth. “I’m sorry about that.”​
 


Connor felt rather awkward being shown around and seated, he squeezed into the booth rather awkwardly; the space barely being able to contain his size. He started at the menu, with its pictures of various dishes that he probably couldn't eat; thankfully, they did have steaks that he could eat, potatoes were fine too, and most greens. Actually, on considering it further, Connor figured he could eat this menu twice over.

He clammed up when the waitress appeared, he wasn't sure what you were supposed to say in these situations. Or what he wanted, or what Sam was okay with him ordering; at the waitresses' assumption that they were on a date he stiffened and a touch of red entered his cheeks. As far as Sam had reassured him that Todd wouldn't mind this, the perception that they were involved like that was extremely concerning; not to mention confusing and... embarrassing? Was that what this was? Connor stared down at the menu, glancing up at Sam dismissed the waitress, yeah Connor could never be involved with someone like her, far too... Connor was distracted from the thought as he heard Sam say he was her brother.

That wasn't true, was she being metaphorical? Had she come very quickly to consider him like a sibling? That seemed a rather rapid escalation considering they had just met. Connor realized he was staring at Sam weirdly, and looked away again, once again finding that looking down was the only place he could think to direct his gaze even though it was drawn to study this strange woman. She smiled at him, and apologized for... he wasn't sure why she was apologizing, but the smile was nice; people didn't smile at Connor.

"It's okay... I haven't been in a restaurant since... before I can remember... I don't know how it works... what to order... how much" Connor said, he paused for a while. "Why did you tell her I was your brother? That's not true."
 

Sam looked up from the menu and at Connor. She winced a little at being called out about her lie, but she still wasn’t entirely sure why she had said it. She made a popping sound with her lips and then sighed.

“Yeah that’s– that’s what I’m apologizing for. I felt… A certain way that I can’t really explain? I think I don’t like the idea of anyone assuming I’m with anyone but Todd. I don’t know why I lied instead of telling her that we just aren’t like that. But, I have… you have good vibes. I think we’re going to be friends. So maybe I said it because I believe that.”

She gave a sheepish smile, watching him despite his downcast eyes. After waiting a moment to see if he would return the smile, she looked back down at the menu. Yeah, it was definitely strong feelings about anyone assuming she was anyone but Todd’s. Strong and negative ones. Was she mad? It wasn’t like that poor waitress could have known that. And yet, some deep part of her was still seething, still tense and ready to snap again.

“Have whatever you want. Get as much as you want. Like ninety percent of my monthly budget is just for food. I’m going to be ordering half the menu myself, so really, get as much of whatever you want.”

She set the menu down and waited for the waitress to return with their drinks. She had looked fairly spooked, and Sam wasn’t entirely sure it hadn’t been because of the feral look she had given the woman at the mere suggestion she could have been anyone but Todd’s. No, it was definitely the look. Sam hadn’t even been aware she could make such a look. But then, she had never felt that strong of an indescribable emotion before.

She shook her head and sighed, letting the tension flow out. With it, she realized she had been burning. She flushed a little, feeling the sudden decrease in the warmth of her clothes. She wasn’t sure how much of it had slipped past, but it looked like not quite enough for Connor to have commented on. Connor. Here she was thinking about Todd when she was trying to make a friend. She gave a soft smile and asked, “So where are you from, Connor?”​
 


Connor understood when she said she didn't want anyone thinking she was with anyone other than Todd; Connor didn't want to be perceived with her either. It was a straightforward, primal, and territorial instinct, one that Connor could sympathize with. It was comforting to know they had similar instincts, it was a commonality that, unlike with Todd, didn't come with a threat. He nodded along, feeling his cheeks heat up when Sam said they we're going to be friends, why was that so... touching?

He was distracted by the mention he could order whatever he liked, that lifted the social pressure of not wanting to order too much; and Connor felt himself naturally relaxing. That was new, he couldn't remember the last time he had actually relaxed, yet here he was... his guard lowered, he wasn't on edge, he wasn't afraid, he wasn't chasing the next prey or protecting his territory. Only the promise of food, of good company, the corners of Connor's mouth twitched.

He went through the menu and picked out everything he could eat, strip loins, sirloins, t-bone steaks, baked potatoes, fried green beans, corn, carrots. He saw there was man n cheese too and decided he wanted two helpings of that. He was amid this process when Sam asked a question.

"“So where are you from, Connor?”

It wasn't the first time he'd ever been asked that question, but he still didn't have a true answer for it; at least one that didn't involve a long complicated explanation. He could say Montana, his forest, his cave; but that wasn't home, that was territory. Territory belonged to you, a home was somewhere you belonged to. Connor thought for a moment, and he couldn't think of anywhere he called home now, he'd called placed home before, but not anymore.

"That's a long story... I cam here from Montana like I said, big forest there, a cave... before that South Dakota, Pine Ridge Reservation I stayed with the Lakota there... before that Tennessee, Appalachia region... before that Ireland... I was born there I think, was raised by nuns in an orphanage," Connor felt this wasn't a great answer, but he couldn't think of another one.
 

“Ireland? Well, you’re a long way away from there. What made you move to the States?” Sam gave him a sneaky once-over. Yeah, he looked like an Irishman. Sam’s grandmother Mallory had taken her to Ireland twice for what she had called “a small family reunion”. The O’Nolan (or as her grandmother insisted they called them, the Ó Nualláin) family gathering had been dozens of people. It had been overwhelming as a child, but a little more manageable as an older teen.

Sam wasn’t very connected to her heritage. It wasn’t from a lack of trying. Grandmother Mallory had constantly made traditional Irish food, which Sam had liked, played Celtic music for her, and helped Sam with several genealogy reports. Sam had spent years researching the Irish culture but it just never clicked for her. She knew a lot– she practiced none of it.

“My family is Irish as well. I’ve been a few times. Really nice place, I can’t imagine moving from there to here.” Which was honestly the truth. When Mallory had moved back to Ireland when Sam was eighteen, when she was still in that period of not really knowing what to do with herself, of being in school, she had offered Sam a place in her apartments. She had said Sam needed to get away from Colombus. That if Sam didn’t leave that city she was going to be a hollow shell of a person.

She was right, of course. The person Sam had become after she left had been an empty and fractured version of the Sam that had existed at seventeen. She had given herself over to the violence and the rage and for several years had done nothing but chase down leads of Obsidian and Slate. She had wiped out several smaller sects, like the one that had been in Colombus, but she hadn’t been sure she was up for the task of taking on Obsidian directly, especially not when she realized how many metas he’d had on his side.

For now, though, Pittsburgh was where she was meant to be. By Todd’s side, in his arms, at the gym, training people how to defend themselves, and now, hopefully, standing by Connor, arm in arm as they wrecked this human trafficking ring they were apparently both after.​
 

"I didn't move here," Connor said. He pondered the question some more, it was a long time ago, when he had first shown up in this strange place. The first thing he had remembered was... sand, the taste of the sea in his mouth, his ears filled with foreign sounds, his nose filled with foreign smells. He was, what, ten? Eleven at the time, ripped away from the only home he'd ever known, too young to remember why or how. When he spoke to people, it was if he was speaking another language, they would struggle to understand him, dismiss him with a look of pity. He was a strange foreign beastly thing, to be pitied at first and later as he grew larger and stronger; feared. Eventually he did learn to speak like the folk here did, but that never made him feel any more welcome.

"...I don't know how I got here... I was young, can't remember much... but I didn't leave Ireland by choice, ever since then... I've been running..." Connor realized he wasn't really participating in the conversation, he remembered reading somewhere you should ask people questions back to make it a good conversation. "Where are... you from?"
 

Sam stared at Connor for a moment, some sadness in her eyes. God, he didn’t know how he got to the States? Was he trafficked? That would explain his hatred for that trafficking ring. She leaned forward a bit, her hands coming up under her chin, folding together to support her head. God, what did she even say to that? She felt like she should address it and not let it just pass by.

“I don’t know what happened to you, but I’m sorry. If you didn’t choose to leave, I imagine the circumstances must have been bad. I hope you’ve at least been able to, ah, find a place for yourself here. Though it sounds like that’s been hard as well.”

Then she listened to his question and nodded her head, leaning back into the booth’s seat again. “I’m personally from Ohio. Second-gen American. My grandmother’s a direct immigrant and, well. She moved back because she hated it here. She just wanted a good life for my mother. Can’t blame her for that, or for leaving. America was just never what she wanted it to be. But I’m from Columbus, basically. Born and raised and lived until very recently.”

Sam didn’t mind talking about her life, especially if it helped Connor relax a bit. She was pretty much an open book, with the exception of the vigilantism. That, she tried to keep under wraps in public. She could get int oa lot of trouble with the law for what she did, so keeping quiet about it was a necessity.

She was about to ask him another question when a waitress showed back, a different one than before, and passed them their drinks. Per usual, Sam got a Coke without ice. Ice was a waste of time when your body temperature naturally ran in the hundreds and you put off so much heat that you could melt it within minutes.

“What can I get started for you two? Any appetizers?”

“No, but I’m going to warn you now that we’re going to order a lot of food.”

“Hungry today, I get it. Go ahead and shoot.”

“I’ll take the country fried chicken, the bourbon grilled salmon, and the twelve-ounce sirloin, the sixteen-ounce ribeye with the Jack Daniel’s Lynchburg Glaze, and for all of the sides I’ll do fries and seasonal veggie mix, and then finally I’ll also take an order of the jumbo fried cheese, please. Connor?”

Sam smiled at Connor, giving him permission for whatever he wanted. The waitress looked astonished, but looked to Connor for his order.​
 
Connor hadn't actually ordered a drink but the waitress had, correctly, made a guess and gotten him a whiskey. He downed in in a single go without so much as a flinch or a second though, whiskey was a rare treat for him so he enjoyed it when he could. He looked back at the menu.

"The sirloin, two t-bone steaks, New York strip, all of those cooked blue rare and with baked potato and green beans as the sides, the salmon as well... the... honey-glazed? Ribs, the full rack... three portions of the mac n cheese as well... and another whiskey... thank you"

The waitress had a look mixed with concern and fear, like what she heard wasn't real, she finished writing down their grocery list of food and walks away staring off; still processing that all. Connor looked over at Sam, she wasn't that large, tiny really, petite; he didn't know where all that food was going to go. Connor realized he was staring at her body which was probably rude, so he looked at her eyes, he didn't really make eye contact with folk that often, eye contact was a challenge. But Sam was no animal, she was... what? Connor only knew people as threats, prey, or non-threats, what was Sam now.. a friend? Connor didn't have friends. Her eyes were golden, it wasn't a colour he knew people to have in their eyes. She was being awfully kind... and it didn't make sense to Connor why, he wondered how she saw him, a pitiful animal? A stray? He didn't know. Connor didn't like not knowing.

She had apologized, for something that wasn't her fault. Sympathy? Yes she looked sad for him, she cared, he smelled no lie on her. She was leaning forward, she actually cared about what he was saying, and wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't... afraid? Connor thought back to seeing her fight, she could probably do a lot of damage to him if they did fight, but he got the impression that her lack of fear had nothing to do with her ability to defend herself. No, it was because... it was because she didn't think Connor would hurt her. The ideas was ludicrous, everyone thought Connor could hurt them, everyone thought Connor was a monster.

But she didn't.

"Do you miss it? Columbus? ... Why did you come here?" Connor asked, his posture was relaxing, he didn't feel so out of place anymore/
 

Sam watched as Connor visibly relaxed after he ordered his food. Maybe it was the fact that she didn’t stop him from ordering easily a hundred dollars of food, or maybe it was how she was treating him. He had, after all, been very clear to her the previous night- he thought he was a monster, something that no one could ever care for. There were very few people in the world that Sam believed weren’t worthy of love. Connor was definitely not in those few people. She met his eyes, unflinching, and took in their deep green. They were pretty, in a much different way from Todd’s icy blues that made her shiver.

She gave him a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. His question just reminded her that she was failing Alice. She had been trying hard not to think of it that way, but it was hard not to. She had come this way for the express purpose of going to Philly. And now, instead, she was in Pittsburgh living a semi-dream existence. At least, as close to a dream as someone like her could have. She had the gym, she had Todd, she had Nat and Adelyn, and now, she might have Connor. That was a dream for Sam. A business, a home, a loved one, a family made of friends. What more could she possibly want?

Revenge. That was the last piece of the puzzle. She couldn’t help the way heat roiled off her in waves at that point, but once she noticed, she reeled it back in. It dissipated slowly while she spoke, in a soft voice. “I don’t miss it. I miss my family but. I had already given them up before I left. A long time ago. I don’t deserve them. I came out this way– I was going to Philly. I was going to Philly to deal with the remains of a problem from when I was seventeen. It’s– I don’t want to rant about it. You don’t have to listen to me talk about it.”

She waved her hand and picked up her Coke, downing half the glass. A waitress passed by and dropped off another whiskey for Connor, and Sam thanked her absently as she walked away. “I try not to inflict my problems on others. I find that not a lot of people like to listen to you rant about the people you want revenge against.”​
 
Connor listened intently, he felt her sadness and he felt as if he knew it as well. He missed Ireland, he missed his time with Chaoa in Pine Ridge, but he felt as if those brief moments of safety, of peace, of... home, they could never last; and they could never truly deserve them. He downed his whiskey in one gulp again.

"I don't mind listening... people don't talk to me much it's... nice, and I think I... can relate."
 
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