[the video is a portrait of contrast. Sam Merlotte looks haggard, worn... and a little apprehensive. He seems like he's trying to decide if he should be addressing anyone at all
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[Rochelle pulls her screen closer like she's making sure she's seeing what she thinks she's seeing. A big wide smile starts to spread across her face.]
OH my god, that really is you. You're one hell of a sight for sore eyes, sweetie.
No kidding. You could at least give a pretty girl a call, you know, Sam. [Teasing him, though her smile fades a little bit. The smile convinced her enough but the initial post didn't.] Is it a stupid question to ask if you're okay?
Oh, you know. Newsy. Businessy. It's been good, it's been good.
I ran out of minutes for a while there. But we're good now. [and he shakes his head, scratches through his hair again, much to Gizmo's squirming dismay.] Nah. It's not stupid. But I think I'm okay.
That and their clubs are pretty much all they're known for. [nevermind how much more there is to that - not least of which were Sam's own efforts to slow down the process, for reasons he can't bring himself to understand.
he just shrugs at the last, uncomfortably.] It is what it is. I'm out now.
[Joe is at said bar at the moment, stringing up orange lights, spooky lanterns, and he's just about given up on making those cottony gobs of cheap cobweb decorations cooperate.
He only checks the network by chance between set up, and when he does, he's not quite sure how to react at first-
His heart feels like leaping, triumphant, because it feels like it's been such a long time- nearly half a year. For Joe, that's almost about a third of his existence. But there's also a lingering guilt, betrayal, estrangement...a feeling which makes his stomach curdle.]
...it's really over with, Sam?
[He's afraid to hope. And afraid to dare mention how close he's been to quitting it all, in these past few weeks, wrestling with loyalty and so much company trouble, and so much struggle to keep business up.]
[Joe. Sam's regret is so heavy for a moment that it feels like something solid weighing down on his shoulders. Of all the people he's hurt - and he knows he's hurt them, even if he can't understand why he would - he feels the guiltiest for what he's done to Joe.
Especially when he was the one constantly fighting for Sam, constantly outraged in his defense.]
Yeah. I think it is this time.
...I wanna talk with you. When I go by the bar tonight.
[There's a thick and muttered mumble, muted a little by the corner of his sweatshirt rubbing up against the speaker. and it might be 'its about time' or good thing you're out or 'what took so long?'. It's too mingled in relief and tired frustration for the words to really suggest anything definitive.
Too many feelings. He's worried that Sam's still changed. That it won't be the same. Although he's all too quick at heart to embrace his workplace as Merlotte's again. It's a name he can be proud to stand behind.
...Now they just need to worry about all the license trouble, and the pile of mail with red alchohol control board "URGENT" stamps across the front. It's made the whole mood at the club uneasy.]
But I'm... um... actually, Sam-
[He speaks up sheepishly- it's difficult to talk. How does he expect to just talk now?]
Monday nights I'm usually off and I go...guest DJ at other places. I'm just here helping Tifa set up for Halloween week.
[A beat, then- too quickly, with barely stifled readiness]
- Hey, no. [he holds up his hands, shakes his head. After everything Joe's done to make time for him and his work at Merlotte's, he's not about to force him from a shift at another job.] It's okay. I'll probably be there all this week tryin' to get back into the paperwork and such. You don't need to call out for me.
[a soft snort at the near slip-up, but no comment.] Thanks.
...And she's Miles' dog, really. I just sorta ...share her with 'im. [he swallows. Gizmo's finally calmed down and curled up in his lap, licking his fingers (and when he moves those back on top of her head she turns to his jeans)]
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[Rochelle pulls her screen closer like she's making sure she's seeing what she thinks she's seeing. A big wide smile starts to spread across her face.]
OH my god, that really is you. You're one hell of a sight for sore eyes, sweetie.
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How's the news business been? Haven't caught much on it lately.
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Oh, you know. Newsy. Businessy. It's been good, it's been good.
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Nothin' to talk about?
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But AGI is rather skilled at threading out their bureaucracy, isn't it?
...I'm sorry that's it's taken so long.
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he just shrugs at the last, uncomfortably.] It is what it is. I'm out now.
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He only checks the network by chance between set up, and when he does, he's not quite sure how to react at first-
His heart feels like leaping, triumphant, because it feels like it's been such a long time- nearly half a year. For Joe, that's almost about a third of his existence. But there's also a lingering guilt, betrayal, estrangement...a feeling which makes his stomach curdle.]
...it's really over with, Sam?
[He's afraid to hope. And afraid to dare mention how close he's been to quitting it all, in these past few weeks, wrestling with loyalty and so much company trouble, and so much struggle to keep business up.]
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Especially when he was the one constantly fighting for Sam, constantly outraged in his defense.]
Yeah. I think it is this time.
...I wanna talk with you. When I go by the bar tonight.
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Too many feelings. He's worried that Sam's still changed. That it won't be the same. Although he's all too quick at heart to embrace his workplace as Merlotte's again. It's a name he can be proud to stand behind.
...Now they just need to worry about all the license trouble, and the pile of mail with red alchohol control board "URGENT" stamps across the front. It's made the whole mood at the club uneasy.]
But I'm... um... actually, Sam-
[He speaks up sheepishly- it's difficult to talk. How does he expect to just talk now?]
Monday nights I'm usually off and I go...guest DJ at other places. I'm just here helping Tifa set up for Halloween week.
[A beat, then- too quickly, with barely stifled readiness]
But I can call out!
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I didn't realise you had a dog.
[ I thought that smell was you. ]
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...And she's Miles' dog, really. I just sorta ...share her with 'im. [he swallows. Gizmo's finally calmed down and curled up in his lap, licking his fingers (and when he moves those back on top of her head she turns to his jeans)]
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[ He doesn't. Dogs, wolves, shifters; in any other situation he would just break their necks and be done with it all. Stupid island. ]
Miles as in Miles Edgeworth, correct?
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Sorry that appeal took so long. As you can imagine, we had quite a stack to go through.
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Thanks for your part in it. It sounds worn, but I really appreciate what you did for me.
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You're welcome.
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