Thusday, October 28th, 1999 - 10:40 pm - Dana and Samuel
"Are you suggesting a walk? Because I think I'm fine where I am, thanks." Samuel said flatly. He was hunched over a bit, staring pensively into the pit.
"If you got something you need to say, I'm all ears."
Dana sucked a sound off of her teeth. She let her hands return to her pockets because if they were free she wasn't sure what she would do with them. If that's how he wanted to play it, fine.
"Alright," she said her tone even. "Your methods of communication... Seem to involve some bullshit. And if you have a problem with me I invite you to stand your ground instead of sniping at me in passing like we're at a church social." Dana said.
"In summary; if you take exception to me calling you a dick drip, maybe don't act like a dick drip."
Samuel turned his glance toward her, his face stolid. Initially, he'd been set to rebuff her statement. And why not? She was the one being uncouth. But then, something occurred to him, a realization born from a curiosity he hadn't been able to place. Not until now. She was angry; no surprise there, she was brujah after all. But it was how similar he'd been to her in his youth that struck him hardest. An age where the more human faces of his own person shined-- rough as they were-- and he had something to prove. Shitty fathers tended to do that.
It was just as likely he'd have reacted the same way as her, too, possibly even garnishing his sentences with more than a few broken teeth. But that passion died with him.
Stranger still, was the feeling of confliction this cognisance gave him. Normally, he'd have brushed it off-- she was just a goon, another in a long line, and a bruiser at that, right? But her eyes... there was a sadness behind that fury. Just like his. And so, his thoughts turned to something unexpected.
"I'm sorry."
For a moment it looked like he would have fought it out with her - and she welcomed it. Talking things through was clearly not her first methodology. He was probably going to point out that when one offers an olive branch one should not whack the recipient with it.
But then - he apologized. Dana took a step back, as though the emotional unfooting had also lost her some stability. Her hands left her pockets but they were no longer balled into fists. Slowly she sunk herself down to sit, to put herself on his level.
She was so used to having to fight tooth and nail to show she was good enough, that she was equal and belonged that it took her a moment to understand what had just happened. Her anger had been a house of cards that collapsed beneath her.
"You were going to hurt Donna when we had her under control," she said more reasonably. "That was overkill on one of our own before we have to go into the thick of it. And you can't talk to Jax like he's some idiot kid - that's not your responsibility and he doesn't need it from five different angles at once. It's not gonna make him any more receptive,"
Dana thought about looking away from Samuel, but they were in it now and so with her jaw still tight with this unfamiliar method she kept his gaze.
"I'm sorry too. Not about before, because I was making a good call there. But I know I'm a dick about names and I know that's important to you. Respect is important to you and me not making an effort doesn't give you good reason to trust me and know I mean no harm with the shit that comes out of my mouth in the moment. So I'm sorry for that."
Samuel smiled thinly. "I'd be a hypocrite if I gave you any flack. I know you're right. Guess I'm used to smoother operations than this, but..." He heaved a sigh of relief. "...The night's young, and this mission of ours has barely come out of its shell. Maybe it'll do me some good to just, I don't know, wait."
Swiftly, he hucked the stump of his cigar into the fire, watching as the decaying mass of charcoal and ash swallowed it whole. The night was young, indeed, and with all these kindred standing on the precipice...
Perhaps..., he mused to himself with a smirk. Perhaps it's the right time for a change of perspective.
"You're used to being in charge," Dana chuckled, pushing herself up, brushing her palms off from the dried grass and sandy dirt that circled the fire pit.
"But there's something to be said for being on equal footing."
She held out her hand so they could shake on it. The air of the night felt clearer. Maybe talking things out wasn't as heinous as she'd thought it would be.
He smiled the sort of crooked smile of someone trying to hide it. Standing up, he stretched his back, feeling every year in each vertebrae. Lack of sun and a penchant for neck nibbles were one thing, but the fact he'd been immortalized with a bad back? What the fuck was that shit?
"So, guess we wait 'til the boss comes back. What do we do now?"
"I dunno. Donna mentioned something about blood-based margaritas?"
