Sam was sick. Very sick. Those stupid bastards, screwing up his medication. He'd been a bloody puppet. That'd been a tell tale sign that things were even more out of whack than normal.

God, he was cold.

And yet, here he was, gripping the hell out of his leather jacket while he sat in a chair, panting softly while sweating inexorably. It seemed to ( Read more... )

Sam Tyler was not amused. Not at all. Because, honestly, how often do you walk into a lobby and find it amusing? None, for Sam Tyler. Which should be a given really, since this isn't exactly where he'd wanted to go ( Read more... )