Sam MacLeod

“Thank you,” Her response was automatized from the many times she had addressed the topic with near strangers the months following her mother’s death. She met his gaze for a moment. With the fatigue, and the discomfort from being back in a hospital, she felt a hollowness in her stomach when their eyes met for that instant. Her eyes slid back down to those flowers, “I’m sorry for bringing it up. You surely have more than enough somber stories in your day,”

“Well my day’s only just getting started, so-” Sam trailed off and just gave a shrug. “Besides, if we can’t occasionally listen to other people’s feelings, we’re kind of failing in our jobs.” He gave a smile that he didn’t feel at all. “Besides. I ... I can imagine what it feels like to lose a parent. And since that’s not something I’d wish on anyone, or something I’d wish anyone to go through alone. It can’t make it easy, coming back to hospitals.”

Ellie wanted to snap out some snarky response, but some long ago defeated part of her felt for his sentiments. She remembered when someone would assume because she was Victoria’s twin, that she had to have the same personality. While it was far from true, every so often she would get tired of snapping at people and would put on that quieter, more polite air that her younger twin would wear. 

“If I tried, would you let me?” It was a genuine question, posed more softly with an earnest look in her eyes. It was ironic that after her memory of being forced to act like her sister, that she pulled an expression that was more Vix than it was Ellie.

Sam’s eyes narrowed at the sudden change in her tone. It was enough to make him suspicious, confused even. But she seemed genuine somehow, and perhaps that was more terrifying. He scoffed, and took a tiny sip of his water to keep his hands busy. “Probably not,” he shrugged. After all, where had opening up actually got him, in the end? Disconsolate and more alone than ever after Ella and Kinsey had fled back to America without so much as a proper goodbye? Having to stand and watch as Prue and Cora left as though his heart wasn’t breaking? Opening up only ever ended in you losing. 

She glanced at him for a moment, then fixed her eyes on those numbers that kept flooding her memory,”My mother died in a hospital similar to St. Mungos, several years ago. If I ever go back I think I’d thank the healers, regardless of whether they expected thanks.”

Sam looked at his shoes. He had had a suspicion it would be something like that, and it stung somewhere close to home. At least he could still see his mother, even if he wasn’t sure she was behind her own eyes. “I’m sorry.” He looked up again. “About your Mum.”

It’s just that you keep insisting that I think you’re boring. While it’s true that you seem to have a different idea of excitement from me, I don’t think that you’re boring. In fact, you’re rather witty and mysterious.

Maybe I just enjoy playing into whatever expectation people always seem to have of me, since nobody wants to know my actual self.

There’s nothing wrong with Sam. It’s  perfectly good name. It’s just - *She pauses, sighing in frustration* Hi Sam, I’m Ellie, and I’m chronically annoying.

Starting to get that, yeah. It’s just what. 

Plain old Sam, hey? Oh, you really don’t like my antics.

Sorry to be a disappointment and not be called something exciting. Fernando, or Xavier or something

What exactly she had said to upset Sam, was lost upon her, but Sylvia did understand that he was upset. Her tired mind reeled to try to put together some apology to glaze it over, but halfway through the process, she found herself stalled. The preemptive empathetic smile she had conjured was replaced with a more genuine, yet hard expression, “I know. I know you do, and I expect it’s largely able to be generalized. I expect everyone did - does - their best. You know hospital patients probably don’t always have the most realistic expectations,” Looking back now, Sylvia realized her mother was scared in those last days, so her usually tendencies were amplified, to try to regain some control over the situation.

“Oh that’s alright,” Sam gave a ‘far-away’ sort of smile, “You know, when we start on these placements they sat us all down and gave us a talk. About how some people always find that they hate working in the hospital, and how we shouldn’t expect thank yous and things like that.” He shrugged. “People come into St Mungo’s because they need help, sometimes at the worst points in their lives, right? We do our jobs and try to help. And then we move on. If you’re doing it for some sort of glory, then you’re in the wrong line of work. All that sort of stuff.”

“Fine. Do what you have to do.”

Thanks. *Sam gives a little hum* Let me know if any of this hurts too much, ok? *He gently places a thumb just under her eye, next to her nose, and proceeds to gently press against her eye socket at intervals* 

She ran her spare hand over her hair. It was an unusual gesture for her, “Not to say I had ever considered being a healer, but the unpredictability of that would probably drive me mad. Perhaps that’s why..” she drifted off, frowning, leaving a pause between her words, “My mother was always aggravated with the healers. Likely, they were just two minutes later than she thought they were meant to be,”

Sam’s eyes narrowed for a second as he processed the meaning in her words, or at least, what they seemed to suggest. “It’s like a lot of jobs. You just have to do the best you can, every time. Sometimes there are people who are on the mend and don’t take much time and we win it back,” he shrugged fighting back the strange urge to blurt out that his mother loved the healers. Seemed to love them more than either of her sons, who she struggled to even recognise if they hadn’t visited in the last few days. “We try to do our best,” he added, more sombrely, his gaze lowered to the floor.

“Is a hippogriff’s kick that powerful? I thought raptors were more sturdy than that. I don’t know. Okay, point to hippogriff, and of course point to basilisk. That’s why I said that one is simple. You don’t hate all snakes though, do you?”

“They’re actually pretty small, most raptors, especially velociraptors. Not much bigger than a dog. And hippogriff’s are powerful things. My, uh. My brother went through a big dinosaur phase,” Sam shrugged uncomfortably, trying to explain his peculiar knowledge about the creatures. “They give me the creeps. I mean. Grass snakes and whatever are fine. But. They’ve always weirded me out.”

“…In times like that, you just have to trust on your instincts to take over, and you have to keep a clear head, above all else.” It was a bizarre sort of fun, telling her story to anyone that would listen,  “Yes, I knew the danger was real. Yes, I was scared, but I kept calm. The other staff and  I got as many of the patrons as we could into the back, the walk in freezer, the kitchens, and those that couldn’t fit we told to get under tables. I mean some of them didn’t listen, some of them just kept drinking, one guy tried to get into the till while everyone was distracted, and there was a fight, that’s actually what this is from,” she touched the bruise on her forehead gently, “trying to break up the fight.  I wasn’t really in the attack,” she admitted slightly reluctantly, “The action stayed on the street. We had a window broken and a fireball came through. It could have been bad, but really there were enough water elementals around and it got the floor, didn’t make it back to the bar so it was out before it spread. It was the explosion next door that got the rest of the windows and rattled the bones of the place. I got banged up a little, mostly my elbows and knees, but that’s all.  I was behind the bar at that point so I hit the floor and…that was that. Didn’t even need to worry about shrapnel.”

“Better to stay out of the action and in one piece than doing something stupid and heroic and ending up in hospital, or worse,” Sam grimaced. “But I’m glad you’re ok.”

“It’s really not as bad as it looks like. I tried getting a look at the attackers. The spell missed my eye.” 

All the same, it might be something more serious. So hold still a minute, eh. I’ve got to check there’s no damage to the eye socket, or the eye itself

Feeling the little key dropping into his pocket was enough to make Sam’s spine stiffen. He looked around, seeing a head bobbing off into the crowd as though he’d never even been nearby. Sam closed his fist around the key with the tiniest smirk of triumph. Answers. Finally. He scanned the room again, and found Roxie, waiting until they made eye contact before he made a small beckoning gesture with his head and turned to excuse himself from the large dining room and the small babble of conversation. He checked where Graham was - seemingly deep in conversation with one of Sam’s classmates, probably about their shared love of Shakespeare - an author Sam himself had never enjoyed. 

Ducking into the hallway, which seemed gloomy next to the warm lights of the dining room, Sam skulked in the corner near the door, waiting for it to open again. 

@firebrand-roxanne

You’d make a good Oscar, though I’m almost glad it’s not your real name. Had I managed to guess it, I imagine we both would have been a bit freaked out. That’s what I’m going to call you in my head now though, at least for the time being. But see? I’m just not so worried about you catching me?

If I adopt a nom de plume at some point I’ll make sure to go by Oscar then. Sadly, until then I’m just going to be plain old Sam

“Remember to ask you to sign some other time. Got it.” She misunderstood on purpose with a smile in her eyes. “You know, I actually hate bars,” she said as if sharing her own confession, “but it seems the only way to meet people. Sad really.”

“Or you could always get someone more tuneful to sing it. That way you might be able to actually recognise the song again,” he shook his head, knowing there was nothing that would convince him to sing. He was slightly surprised by her confession - not many people felt that way, in his experience, and few confessed it so readily. But he knew the feeling, all too well. “You should try it when you don’t even drink,” he raised his empty water glass to her in a half-hearted mockery of the usual ‘cheers’ motion

Calm down Oscar, I’m sure you’ll win any curmudgeon contests even without actively making yourself miserable. You really had struck me more as the type to not waste your time anyways.

Sadly, Oscar is not my name, maybe I’ll take it on as an alias. But you’re right. Wasting time is, well. A waste.

“Not everyone, no,” Sylvia glanced at the room number over her shoulder. It was  response meant to pacify the topic. She had never received flowers for a performance, and had only received one flower elsewise. It was true that other dancers like her would commonly receive flowers from loved ones, however, so Sam wasn’t incorrect. Regardless, the idea reminded her of her currently overly-salient mother. Though she had rarely seen her mother with flowers during her life, most of the remaining photo of the deceased Mrs. Ilka included a bouquet.

“I guess I just have unfortunate timing then. I should have accounted for the morning rounds,”

Sam shook his head. “Oh it’s not your fault,” he gave an amused grin for a fleeting moment. “We healers are singularly unpredictable. You could have had a detailed list of exactly when he was supposed to be seen by healers and even then you’d still probably not catch him without anyone there on your first try. There’s always another question to answer, or something takes longer than it should. And some of the patients just like a chat, as well. They need it.”