necroslacker | room 216 ; saturday afternoon

A weekend spent in here and now was a good weekend as far as Sam was concerned. He hadn't even existed last weekend so, slow or not, this weekend was gonna be a good one. He'd spent the morning talking to people in Seattle and he'd even gotten a visit from Ashley. She'd been pretty scarce lately and when Sam had asked about it, she'd just given her head a shake and kept typing on her Blackberry.

Sam took that as meaning she'd just been busy and he needed to not worry. Or something. So, that's what he was doing right now. He was not worrying about anything. He'd gotten mail from his mom and Haley that morning (a care package containing cookies) and he was nibbling on those every so often while exchanging text messages with Ramon.

Poor Ramon was still adjusting to the whole were-bear thing and was bitching about Frank nearly peeing himself when he'd run into a transformed Ramon in the hall and hadn't expected it. Sam was just lucky that Brannoc and his family were around and were helping Ramon through since he wasn't really there right now.

Ramon forgave him and even started sending him stupid, joking text messages about them getting married and running away and living as husband and husband. It was just good to joke with his friend and, for a split second, the part of Sam that was constantly reminding him that he'd go evil one day disappeared.

It was just a second but still, it'd been nice.

[Door cracked, post open.]

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"Grey rubbery omlettes? Rat on the menu?" she checked. "If so, remind me never to eat your cooking."

"At Plumpy's, they were called hamburgers and chicken patties but yeah, I think they were on the menu," Sam quipped, shrugging. "And I never cooked. They didn't let me near the deep fryer. That was Ramon's thing."

Kate smirked. "What made him the chosen one?"

"The fact that he never came close to burning the place down?" Sam guessed, shrugging. "I dunno. Maybe he was just the only guy that could make the food taste like food. He was good at it."

"So what was your schtick?" If it wasn't food creation, she was picturing him in those brightly coloured outfits she'd seen on the people serving at Mooby Land. "Other than apparently burning things."

"I did other things that needed to be done," Sam replied, shrugging. "Someone had to give the food out, someone had to do drive thru and someone had to clean up. They kept me plenty busy and I still smelled like grease at the end of the night."

"Sounds missable," she joked, slouching against his door. "You've totally traded down, getting to spend your time eating cookies on an afternoon." And, you know, getting vanished, or attacked by god knew what.

More honestly, she continued with, "I think I'd want to strangle people five minutes in to a job like that." Customer service was probably never going to be a good career path for her.

"It was a job. I never said I enjoyed it," he pointed out, giving his shoulder another shrug. "I did it because I needed the money but even still, I never spit in anything. You'd be the spitter."

"Less a food spitter, more a glare and threaten," Kate told him, shaking her head. "My customers would be leaving with the threat of getting an intimate meeting with my fist."

Food spitting was a little passive.

"You act like no fast food person in the world's ever tried that before," Sam pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "You think you'd be the first to use violence to get your way in a fast food joint?"

"I didn't say I was unique," she pointed out. "Just that spitting in food isn't my thing." Come on Sam, that's like just handing out her DNA.

"Working in a fast food place in Atlanta, hell violence is probably expected."

"So, if you're not gonna aspire to be a fast food joint worker, what are you gonna aspire for?" Sam wondered. "Daycare worker?"

"Yes." Uhh. No. "I thought I had that special nurturing touch, what do you think?"

He'd seen her as a kid now, which may have given him some small insight into what she knew of parenting and childhood.

"I'd love to see you change a dirty diaper or three," Sam admitted, smirking. "I bet you'd do great work!"

"I don't see people wanting to leave their kids with me." Really. "They might pick up bad habits."

More importantly, people around Kate had an unfortunate tendency to die. Which was more the sticking point with her, and being around any innocent parties.

"I think maybe you're projecting."

"Do you not want kids?" Sam wondered, ignoring her last statement.

"Wouldn't like to subject a kid to me, or my life," she answered, shrugging casually. In an ideal world, yes, she'd have all that. But an ideal world wasn't what she had. "Or my family."

"Who says your life's always going to be like it is now?" Sam pointed out. "Things could change."

"I don't have that kind of luck." Kate had rather resigned herself to dying young and not getting the kind of life he was talking about. It was a little morbid to say so outright, though. "Besides, there are some things you can't change." Like the inheritance any kid of hers would get out of being related to Roland.

"I see this all as more your future than mine."

"Yeah right," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "That's not happening. I've got enough problems and enough people to worry about hurting. Not gonna do that."

Kate snorted. "Ditto." They had that in common. "People around me die a lot. That's not really conducive to future planning."

"I thought you were all about 'how life could change' though?"

"I meant for other people," he pointed out. "I'm resigned to eventually going evil one day or something."

Yeah, Kate still wasn't really seeing his evil potential, and looked him over skeptically. "Why? Evil, barring mental breakdown... Isn't it a choice?" Not one he seemed eager to take, either.

Edited 2011-12-17 23:55 (UTC)

"Yeah, it's a choice but still. Who says I won't make it one day?" Sam wondered, shrugging. "Maybe I will."

"Maybe I will. Maybe someone across the hall... That goes for any person in any world."

Kate shrugged back at him. "Like other people haven't thought about that." Like her, for example. "You don't want to, right?"

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