[His hand is warm. Rough. Heavy in a way that's so familiar after all this time. She— like Taylor— are creatures designed to thrive on words, but she's never been so self-absorbed that she couldn't appreciate the opposite side of the coin, the way that some people only adore their own reflections. Their world is deception, but Sam's? Sincerity. Devotion. Strength she only barely earned, and never really deserved.
no subject
Washington was never really wrong about that.]
Is that the only reason you think I'm still here?