Sam Baudelaire

Samuel interrupted his rambling to accept his offer. In this moment, nothing could've made him more happy. He couldn't hide the smile that grew wider and wider on his face. In this moment, he looked more like the boy Sam had raised than the hardened firefighter who faced danger and stood his ground every day.

When Sam is invited in he's a little surprised to be hit with the smell of cleaning supplies, and even more surprised by the staleness of the house. He's distracted enough by the friendly face of his brother and the beer being shoved into his hand, but as he cracks it open and walks further into the room he pays more attention to the little details. The missing furniture reminded him of the rumors around town. He had been ignoring most of what was said about his family. Most people new better than to talk about them in front of him anyways. He had heard little whispers of his brother's divorce, but he almost didn't believe it. This seems to be proof. "How are you doing?" Sam asks, deciding that getting the hard stuff out of the way might be the best. Not the apologizing and making up, but just being there for his little brother. He hopes he comes across as comforting. He's relaxed, leaning back against the couch and turning to face his brother. He even took his shoes off. He misses being so comfortable with Ben. He misses being able to call him up whenever he wanted, listen to his brother talk about dumb shit and make Sam forget about his own problems for a while, but most of all he really misses being there for Benji when he needed him. Like now. He doesn't know if he should admit that he heard about his divorce through rumors in case that's all they were. He doesn't want to bring it up and start another fight when he just got Ben back in his life. However, if Ben was ready to tell him, Sam might give a relieved sigh. He hoped it wouldn't offend Benjamin too badly now that they weren't together anymore. He really couldn't help himself.

Rosita was taking a well-earned break, scrolling through different apps on her phone. She didn't really care if someone saw her slacking. She figured she was doing more than enough by showing up. She didn't notice the chaos happening behind her until she felt someone colliding with her. She was pushed forward and her pretty red boots were now covered in mud along with her phone that fell on the floor due to the impact. ''What the hell?'' She snapped, turning around. Two men were pushing each other, riling each other up. They were loud and agressive. If she wasn't her she probably would've given them a break since everyone was stressed, but she wasn't the most empathetic woman. ''Do you have any idea how much these cost?'' with a subtle flick of her wrist, she made the other man lose his footing and fall to his knees in the mud. ''So slippery out here...'' she smiled innocently until the man hastily gathered himself and left to go join his friends. ''And you,'' she turned, her finger jabbed right in the center of Sam's chest. ''Be a gentleman and pick up my phone,'' she crossed her arms over her own chest as she expected him to do the decent thing. @sammybfree

Sam huffs in annoyance. As insufferable as Rosita was there was one thing she had that Sam couldn't help but be intrigued by. Her bossy attitude. He bends over and grabs the muddy phone, wiping the wet dirt onto his shirt before handing it over as he rolls his eyes. "You lost something?" He asks, raising his eyebrow at her suspiciously. "I didn't think you cared about anything enough to go looking for it. Can't you buy a replacement?" He liked teasing Rosita, and maybe he needed a little bit of a stress relief. Getting into a scuffle with the others wasn't really enough to make him feel better, not that a big fight out in the middle of no where would make him feel better anyways. Figuring out what was going on might, but Sam really didn't know where to start with that. So, Rosita was stuck with him being an asshole to her for his own amusement. He crosses his arms over his chest as he gives her a shit-eating smile, like he's sitting back and waiting for her explosive reaction to his comments. Maybe she'd even slap him in the face.

Sam rolls his eyes as he continues his cleaning of the bar top, not that it really gets that clean ever no matter how many times he wipes it down. He thinks if he ignores her it'll only become an even bigger nuisance than she already was now. He huffs at Natalia, "Fine. Whatever. But don't come crying to me when you get your ass beat." He knows and hates the fact that helping her, training her, is going to result in being stuck with the younger woman. She was probably going to want to be friends, to receive advice from him maybe (until she sees how he lives his life at least), and Sam just didn't have the ability to make room for a new person in his life. Still, he can't help but be a little charmed by how determined she is, and a little pathetic. He could whip her into shape, he thinks eventually. "But," he starts. "you have to be seriously committed. You have to show up every week, and I don't want my name tied to a quitter. So no take backs. Either you're in it or you're out, got it?" He gives her a serious look, maybe trying to scare her off one final time before finally accepting to help her.

Rosita didn't look like she belonged while everyone cheered and yelled as two men punched each other on the made up ring. At first, she thought her date was insane for bringing her here. She was wearing a beautiful red dress with heels that made her taller than the man who was cursing next to her. She decided she was never going to see him again, but did use his money to bet. She didn't really care when she first did it, until the man she thought was going to win did and she was handed money. That was it? All she had to do was pick who she thought was the strongest or smartest of the two and she'd make money? She did it a few times and surprisingly was always able to tell who would win.

Sam's blood was pumping. The feeling of losing was strangely even more exhilarating than winning. He knows it's dumb. How could losing feel good? But there he was, admiring the warm feeling of his cheek swelling up and bruises littering his torso. He might even have a cracked rib or two. He feels lighter than air, questions if he's some kind of sick pervert, then jumps as he hears the shouting behind him. It takes him a minute to realize the striking woman in red is talking to him. Well, who else? They were alone in an alley. He turns to her slowly, squinting through the darkness at her bright outfit and high heels. "Should I care?" His high is immediately dragged back down to earth. Well, happiness never lasts long for him anyways. "I could've won," he agrees, "but I didn't. Why don't you go buy yourself a few drinks with daddy's credit card and leave me alone?" he'd blame her for the affects not lasting long, but they never did anyways. Maybe tomorrow when he got up, sore and aching, he might be a little pleased with himself for throwing the fight and earning some extra cash, but he doubted it. He'd probably just feel pathetic again. He reaches into his pocket, looking for his pack of cigarettes to grab a smoke from. He could feel his arms shaking. He needed something, maybe another fight would do him good. The way the woman was scolding him made him annoyed enough to consider winning this time.

closed starter: for @sammybfree where: rusty dog

Sam hadn't really even noticed Nat sitting there all night until everyone started going home and she was basically the only one left besides a few strays. He was cleaning a glass, zoning out to the rhythm of repetitive scrubbing, when her voice cut through his concentration. "Excuse me?" He blinks at her in confusion. Then processes what she said and looks her up and down. "You? No. You'd be killed." Well, maybe she'd be okay. They had a weight class, probably, and maybe she was more scrappy than she looked. He shakes his head at her still. It would be a lot of work to get her in. And by a lot of work he mostly means he'd have to go ask someone to sign her up and that involved talking to people and doing things. Maybe even having to stick around and manage her or something. He sighs as she looks at him expectantly. He knows she won't take no for an answer, but maybe he could scare her out of this hair-brained idea of fighting. "It's not like wrestling, you know? This is more like... dog fighting. You get thrown in, trained or not, and if they can rip you apart, they will." He levels her with a serious look. "They don't care if you beg for your life. They'll sniff out your weaknesses." Maybe it's not really that bad, but Sam wasn't going to sugarcoat it either. It earned him more than enough scars to prove that it wasn't something to just throw yourself into unprepared. Natalia would need some kind of training, at least. Or she'd go home with a few broken reminders of why this idea was stupid in the first place. "You ready for that?" He asks as he crosses his arms over his chest. He knew the answer was no, but he really wanted to hear her hesitate and back out anyways.

The calls involving a drunk and violent person always had been the kind Benjamin wished to avoid ever since he started as a firefighter. He wasn't a fan of that kind of behavior, they rarely listened and always caused problems for his team. Mostly, he was always worried the situation would involve his father.

The blinking red lights outside the bar really created an atmosphere Sam was used to. He stares off into them, zoning out as the firefighters took care of the drunks squabbling over a bet gone too far (which happened probably every other night), while wiping the same spot on the counter over and over as he gave himself a break from listening to everyone's problems and whining. Maybe he was too grumpy to have this type of job. Maybe its why he never got tips. He didn't smile or remember people's names, he just poured the drinks. Seeing his brother brought up that shame he always felt and pushed away. The last time they had talked Sam had said some nasty things. He had yelled at Benji, who was just trying to bring up valid concerns, and went too far. Like he always did. Maybe he'd gotten so defensive because he hated how he was becoming. He didn't want Ben to have to take on the burden of him like Sam had to for their father. He didn't want to worry his siblings. He didn't want them to be stuck like he was. It seemed like an olive branch between them. Benji wanted to hang out, no apologies necessary, and Sam would take that opportunity greedily. Maybe it was fucked up to forgive someone just because they were related to you, but that was how they were raised. "Yeah," he says, throwing down the rag he had been polishing the single spot with, his reflection now looking back at him. "I can hang. In an hour." It's simple and it's barely more than 6 words, but it says so much to both of them. They wanted time together. They wanted to mend what was broken. They miss and love each other. Sam didn't completely ruin their relationship last time and Benji was making sure he knew that with this simple invite. He'd hate to admit it, but he was excited to spend time with him again. To check up on him and know that his life was going better than Sam's was. He wouldn't admit that he'd been keeping tabs on him anyways, but hearing about Benji's life updates straight from the source would be so much more satisfying. "I'm gonna close up here," he explains, a small, welcoming smile on his face. "We can meet up somewhere? Your place maybe." He'd like being anywhere other than home or another bar. Going to his little brother's seemed like a luxury Sam was scared he'd probably no longer deserved. He hoped throwing it out there would give him the chance to know if he was allowed around or not anymore. If Ben forgave him enough to want him there. He really wanted that forgiveness.