[ Amos isn't expecting too many people in here, this time of night, but it also doesn't bother him to think he might run into someone. He is surprised to hear a familiar voice. There's a kind of brief warmth, though, at looking up and seeing her again. Enough that he responds with a small smile of his own. ]
Think I know the answer to this one. [ How about that; it's actually really easy, he finds, to pick up this thread with her like they only just parted ways, like barely any time passed. Not that it's been too long, but — he wasn't sure when he'd see her again like this, despite thinking he wanted her to be okay. Sometimes when he'd be parked at the motel for a night or two, catching sleep, he'd check around, see if he saw her moving through. If he ever caught a glimpse and she seemed — okay, then, maybe that would be nice. ]
You were in charge of the radio. Weren't bad. That one song — kinda stuck.
[ This is, more or less, just a thing to say. Whatever was playing, he sure didn't recognize it, though it wasn't bad background noise on that long stretch of road. What actually stuck more than the music or the messy noise, was Wanda herself. Her story. Her brother. The things she told him, things he knows were important to her. He's held it all close, even if he doesn't know how to talk about that, or to even define what that meant to him.
He doesn't have many clothes accumulated yet — just a small pile — but a few long sleeve shirts, a hoodie, and some socks, get stuffed into the machine before he shuts the door, taps the top of it, close to her forearm. ]
no subject
Think I know the answer to this one. [ How about that; it's actually really easy, he finds, to pick up this thread with her like they only just parted ways, like barely any time passed. Not that it's been too long, but — he wasn't sure when he'd see her again like this, despite thinking he wanted her to be okay. Sometimes when he'd be parked at the motel for a night or two, catching sleep, he'd check around, see if he saw her moving through. If he ever caught a glimpse and she seemed — okay, then, maybe that would be nice. ]
You were in charge of the radio. Weren't bad. That one song — kinda stuck.
[ This is, more or less, just a thing to say. Whatever was playing, he sure didn't recognize it, though it wasn't bad background noise on that long stretch of road. What actually stuck more than the music or the messy noise, was Wanda herself. Her story. Her brother. The things she told him, things he knows were important to her. He's held it all close, even if he doesn't know how to talk about that, or to even define what that meant to him.
He doesn't have many clothes accumulated yet — just a small pile — but a few long sleeve shirts, a hoodie, and some socks, get stuffed into the machine before he shuts the door, taps the top of it, close to her forearm. ]
How're you feelin'?
[ She looks better. ]