— ‹ sharp shooter. ❜

I have been the bullet. I have been the wound. I have been everything that it took to become neither. Samantha Hollis, Medical Examiner.

[milica-j]

When I turn around, he cups my face in his hands and he kisses me so deeply that I don’t know who is breathing for who, but his mouth and tongue taste like warm honey. I don’t know how long it lasts, but when I let go of him, I miss it already.

Melina Marchetta (via milica-j)

[samanthahollis]

mjducaine‌:

“You look better out of them anyway, Sam.” Malcolm stated matter of factly, not realizing that the compliment could have been taken the wrong way - he knew she was beautiful, so did she, there was no denying that. Truthfully, it had been one of the many reasons the man had been attracted to her in the first place - she had an unfathomable beauty about her that had nearly brought him to his knees, not that he would admit that to her. Not only was her exterior absolutely mesmerizing, but her personality was as well - she was able to keep him on his toes and for a man like Malcolm Ducaine, that was very hard to come by.

Allowing his hand to close around hers, the man gave it a squeeze before he unbuckled himself in unison with her. “Just have a couple drinks, Sam. I’ll completely ruin you later.” He stated, leaning over for a moment to cup her jaw in his hand - easily turning her to face him. His lips found hers, giving them a rather hard, but meaningful kiss. When he pulled back, he hardly gave her time to protest before he got out of his side as an indication that they were going in and there was no way around it.

So much of her life had been Samantha trying to prove something -- be it to herself, or to the world. The world was built upon categorizing things and forcing someone to take the form the world thought they should. Sam had tried to play contortionist to fit into neat little boxes when she was younger, but she had stopped severing parts of herself to try to fit into a mold she was not made from. So much of her life had been spent screaming in an attempt to be heard. She was Samantha Hollis; so many things, and so few at the same time. She presented a tough face to the world, and she was -- too hard at times, even -- but Malcolm Ducaine had been one of the few that caught a glimpse of her big picture. She showed him who she was and let her voice whisper sweet nothings instead of being hoarse in an attempt to be heard. 

“I’ll hold you to it,” Sam managed to say through a grimace. His hand turning her head did not warrant her usual, defiant gaze. She gave his hand a faint squeeze, though her eyes lingered on the lock button as he stepped out of the car. Sam wrapped his knuckles far too many times that she didn’t put punching out the window above him. She was far from timid, but the steps she took towards the house were tentative when she let herself emerge. They would sit at a table beneath one of the ancient magnolia trees she had climbed in her youth -- surrounded by their faint perfume and strung up in fairy lights. Little lights and control of the cake had been her only requests for their wedding. The rest had been placed in Mac’s hands. So much of herself had been placed in Mac’s hands, and hers sought out his once more. “Thank you for this.” Those words did not leave her reddened lips easily. Nothing about revisiting this would be easy.

[plathisms-blog]

Everyday since that bad thing happened, I’ve been practicing                   a spell: how to disappear from yourself, within yourself.

Warsan Shire, excerpt of “Abracadabra Acudubillah,” Her Blue Body (via plathisms)

[samanthahollis]

mjducaine‌:

Malcolm could sense the tension radiating from the woman next to him. He had always been relatively practiced in reading her, sometimes even before she was able to pinpoint her own emotional standing - but tonight was different. The rising anxiety in the woman was raw and obvious. It had been since they had left their room, Samantha huffing about not being able to decide on something to wear when Malcolm had been dressed for an hour at least. He was decorated in a suit, one that fitted him in all the right ways and highlighted the fact that he was a businessman at heart - one that knew a good quality suit combination when he saw one.

The hand he felt on his thigh made him raise an eyebrow, though for a moment he wondered if her nails would puncture the skin beneath his slacks. “If you want me to take it out on you later, I’m happy to oblige. Just give me the signal and we can make a run for it.” Malcolm stated, looking over at his companion with a growing grin - it was playful, one that he only really reserved for women named Samantha Hollis - or on this night, Jolene Ducaine. He had complimented her on the choice of name just mere hours before.

“I don’t really do dresses, Mac,” Samantha complained as she tried to draw out the inevitable. She had, at one point. Only for him. Her youth had been filled with far too many. Ruffles, pleats, bows. They had been countered with tight jeans and motorcycle helmets. Red lips had been an attempt to appear older than underage as she carved out a place for herself in locations a young lady should not be caught dead in. They were traded for demure pinks on Sunday mornings. Her wild side had always been tempered with a vague shell of ladylikeness. Samantha Hollis had never been a dainty creature, but she had learned a breathy grace and elegance when the time for debutantes was thrust upon her. She had packaged herself up neatly for Mac in their time together. She had to make her elusiveness worth his while. The apprehension and dissatisfaction with her wardrobe in the hotel didn’t come down to a lack of know how. She could shed the scrubs and active wear and turn back into a stunner, but it all game with a glowering grudge. How did one dress to go to dinner in the very building where her life had been ripped apart? 

It was odd, seeing her childhood home once more. The drive up the allée, with arched trees tunneling towards her trauma, had been arduous. Samantha undid her seatbelt and debated if the car, or the building, seemed to be more claustrophobic. She had almost booked a night in the house turned boutique hotel. It was almost laughable, but the humor was lost on Sam. Maybe Jolene could find it. She had hated her middle name, but she didn’t mind it as much when coupled with the surname she almost took. “We’re gonna go, I’m not going to cry, and then you’re going to take this dress off of me and fuck my brain out before I blow it out.”

[samanthahollis]

@mjducaine

Dark nails wrapped around the steering wheel, white knuckling herself in an attempt to stay grounded. Her left hand lifted and game to rest on his thigh. She longed for the anonymity of her motorcycle helmet, but she navigated the rental car down the streets she still knew by heart. Tonight, Samantha Hollis was dead. She was not buried in the cemetery that she refused to visit, but she had ceased to exist in this town after she got the hell out. Jolene Ducaine simply existed instead – born in a moment of panic when she needed a name for the reservation. She swung the car around a hidden corner, picking out a small break in the formidable army of crepe myrtles. A long, crushed oyster shell driveway appeared in front of them as Sam cut the engine to a crawl. Pillars and a sweeping veranda greeted them as they edged closer. She pulled a pair of sunglasses down over her darkening gaze and forced out a breath after it hitched in her throat. The car ultimately came to a stop and Sam signaled it with one last pat on Mac’s thigh. “Fuck me for this fucking stupid idea.” 

[samanthahollis]

mjducaine‌:

The feeling of Samantha’s mouth on his was one that he so often would relish in during their formative years - both when they were together and when they weren’t. It was rare that a woman would leave Malcolm Ducaine sitting up at night with a careful eye on his phone in case her name was to light up the screen in his dimly lit bedroom. Yet, there he was, so many nights waiting for her call that he would never receive. Though the frivolousness was often reciprocated, with Malcolm leaving the woman cryptic drunk messages at ungodly hours of the night or showing up the next morning with a blood-soaked shirt. Thinking back on their entirety, it had been an intense relationship - semi-shortlived but otherwise fierce. He supposed the majority of his companionships held sentiments of the same emotions given that he was a man of repetition.

With the hair on the back of his neck standing up from the tingles her hand left behind, Malcolm leaned into the woman and allowed one hand to find the small of her back. He bent her backward slightly with ease as they kissed, using the familiar power negotiation in his favor even though she seemed to have the upper hand. Everything in Malcolm’s body was buzzing, though whether or not it was from Samantha Hollis or the coffee he had ingested before was up in the air - admittedly, he hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

As an elusive spirit, Samantha made an impact when she allowed herself to be present. Her disconnect was not done out of passivity; she was simply best taken in small doses. She could radiate such intensity and found pleasure in watching others waiting for her to act. Most probable reactions had already been thought out. She was not simply one or two steps ahead, but rather creating entire paths with subtle diligence. 

Samantha thrived on control, yet there was only so much she could manipulate to her favor. The man before her held such unpredictability but he had truly been the most compatible opponent to go toe to toe. There had been such give and take -- both genuinely offered and forcibly removed -- on both ends. At times, Sam’s internal fight had gone out. Sometimes she would pick one with him, but at others, she had surrendered into his arms. That urge had not left her, but her own stubborn pride made her put down her phone. Or throw it across the room. She had not answered every one of his calls, but she had answered every door. Sam had stitched up Malcolm or anyone he dragged to her doorstep, she set broken fingers and taught how to wrap knuckles to evenly distribute the impact. 

She had learned to stop asking questions long ago. Some answers simply weren’t given, and some she didn’t want to hear. She hadn’t intended for her morning to go like this but she was doing little to stop it. Samantha Hollis wasn’t ready to surrender as she was dipped back. She continued pulling him closer and gave his bottom lip a small nip before deepening.

[samanthahollis]

mjducaine‌:

Malcolm had always been a slave to the woman that once held his heart - despite the fact that he was elementally never that hung up on anybody. She had a way with him that had caused him to see the world differently, at one time making him question whether or not the life he was living was one he wanted to drag her into. But he had and that was how they had ended up in this very situation - no longer married but still connected to each other in every sense of the world. 

His strong hands found the crook of her knees and pulled her against his body as he moved his fingers to tangle into her hair. There was a warm smirk growing on his lips as he stared at the woman, examining her features intently as though he could look at her forever - but he wouldn’t admit that to her. They had been through so much as a couple, both good and bad, that he knew any real chance of them reverting back to their ways wasn’t going to happen.

Another long moment of him watching her before he leaned in and pressed his mouth against hers, allowing whatever feelings they were experiencing to pass through them as easily as they had been stirred just a moment before.

Samantha had offered him something other than her eternal apathy. He had gotten glimpses of so much more. All of their little moments and pieces she showed to no one else cast certain moments in a fond haze. The way her nose crinkled when she let herself laugh too loud, the way his fingers connected the freckles upon her shoulders when she took the time to revel in the soft glow of the sun and life. The way she could bring him to his knees while she was on hers -- but she refused to let herself get swept up in memories of only the good. 

He had found her at her lowest, and offered higher ground. She somehow sank further, yet let them ascend to the distant star of her heart -- burning lightyears away, and never quite reachable. She had tried the hardest with Malcolm Ducaine, but Samantha Hollis was not made for love. There was no room for it in her equation of control and causticness. The fire they had both gravitated to and sought out in the other had kept her warm until it left her gasping for air. 

One hand stayed delicately upon his neck as the other landed on his chest once more. She had missed this tactile tenderness, though she would never admit that. Sam let her hand dance down his body before it came to rest with a finger coiling through a belt loop. She gave a sharp pull with both arms as her mouth found his as she let it say all of the things she wouldn’t vocalize. 

[pacificwanderer]

Lights go out again You stroke my pain And tempt my trouble Sick how we pretend But we’re not friends And we’re not lovers We’re just trouble We’re just trouble So tempt my trouble

[samanthahollis]

mjducaine‌:

Samantha Hollis had always had a way with manipulating Malcolm in the best of ways. It was one of the reasons why their relationship had burned so quickly - good things must come to an end, he figured. It had started out wonderful, albeit a little questionable, but had burned very quickly with the passion of one thousand suns. It was quintessential Malcolm Ducaine to jump into something quickly and let it go up in smoke all in the same breath - but did that stop him from investing himself whole-heartedly into the kind of woman that was sitting in front of him? Absolutely not.

A sigh escaped his lips as he let his eyes flicker back toward her, a look of very slight desperation hidden beneath his heavy lids. “I would ravish you, Samantha Hollis.” The man murmured before he forced himself to take a step back.

It was funny -- they had been apart now longer than they were together. Four years was a significant amount of time for Samantha, but there had been wisps of smoke before it all went up in flames. There had been parts of herself that she was still revealing up until the very end; they were both smooth and sharp facets hidden amongst her edges and depths. His fire had matched her own, and melted parts she had iced out long ago before burning from the inside out. Malcolm Ducaine had come the closest to unraveling the mystery of Samantha Hollis.

Samantha held his gaze, though she lifted her chin slightly in a stubborn, subtle victory. “That’s Dr. Hollis, to you.” As he retreated, Sam claimed his space as she reached out a hand to stroke his stubble before coming to land upon the side of his neck. “Show me, don’t tell me.”

[samanthahollis]

sidjcmes‌:

“You are distracting.” And she knew it too which was always an attractive trait, or maybe it was a trained bluff. Sam was impossible to read. Sid would chance her arm with charming grins and a pickup lines that she even impressed herself with and it would work every so often and other times it was as if she didn’t exist. A very curious position to be in for someone as striking and as confident as Sidney James. “I know, I know, trust me, if you were a nun I’d consider religion. But doctors are usually pretty unbiased and I’m just looking for honesty. There is logic here.” The tall tattoo artist explained, more to herself than the woman in front of her. Clinical was a compliment in her opinion. The idea of being overtly biased meant seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses without knowing it, a dangerous disadvantage to have. “See I’m more of a never say never kind of person. You just don’t know when you might need a cup of sugar.” Or a pair of well-practiced hands. Sam seemed to work all hours of the day and Sid wanted to be neighborly about it. Some neighbors would have offered to mow her lawn or pull out her trash cans on garbage day but Sid was more interested in playing to her strengths. Her eyes looked over the selected picture critically. The angle was good, so was the lighting and it had stuck out to Sam so surely it was a safe bet. Cute blonde? Stella. Hardly sneaking out, rather work tended to pull her from Sid’s lustful clutches. “See that’s what an Instagram is for. She’ll see it and so will everyone else who’s looking for me.” Economical dispersal of content. Though she didn’t make her money as an ‘influencer’ she did offer some time to her online presence. Sid enjoyed cataloging looks and aesthetics for others benefit. Boyfriend, girlfriend, career and life goals all wrapped up in one pleasingly neat package. 

“I have to give you something to smolder at.” She let a shrug fall from loose shoulders. Samantha had not always intended to go down this path in life. She had signed her rights to a 9-5, regimented schedule away when she decided to become a doctor. The controlled chaos of the medical field had called to her. Her life had been a carefully choreographed flirt with disaster between her family and her own shortcomings, but she did her best to wrangle it into dormancy. Sam had her own motivations for becoming a medical examiner and had traded autopsy suites for surgical ones. Her days began where someone else's life had ended, and she could never quite control when she got the call that she was needed at a scene rather than the morgue. She had always held an innate aloofness; only furthered by guarded walls and a scathing tongue she longed to let off the choke chain. Sam held no true, firm routine and could cross paths with Sid at almost any given point in time. From scrubs to a helmet tucked under her arm and Thai food cradled in the other, Samantha gave the people in her life whiplash. “You can still worship me either way.” She countered, though she would fling any sentiments of that sort far away. She would offer honesty in droves; often of the blunt variety. Any love won from Samantha in a hard-fought battle was of the tough sort. Sam was one to never say never. She kept certain cards close to her chest and others up her sleeve, though she had been more prone in her days with Mac. Samantha’s social media was often dark but she liked to pop up unexpectedly out of duty. She reveled in possessing enigmatic qualities and had carefully cultivated an ephemeral existence. “I like to leave others wanting for more.” Wanting anything at all. 

[samanthahollis]

penelopewells‌:

Penelope found discomfort in it all. The words passed through her ears, before she could even begin to understand everything Sam was saying. Looking over her shoulder back at where they came from, the brunette hoped to gather some more information on just what she was talking about. Was she so unaware that she didn’t even realize she was going to be a potential victim? Her head spun back around as the woman’s hands rested on her shoulders. God, why did it have to be Sam? Penelope could guess that news of all of this was sure to find it’s way back to Mac now. That wasn’t what she wanted. Taking slower breaths now, she tried to focus. Her brain seemed to be running at a hundred miles per hour. 

Penelope’s eyes widened as the woman asked her the question she so desperately didn’t want to hear. “I didn’t take anything.” She pulled her wrist back from the woman delicately. The sensation of the touches seemed to make her more anxious than anything. Blinking a few times, she refocused once again, trying not to seem suspicious. “You just scared me.” Shaking her head, she pushed her shaking hand into her pocket. “I’m fine.”

She was an immensely private person, but respected that trait in others. Her eyebrows furrowed as she continued to watch Penelope. Though her first instinct was to make this Mac’s problem, she decided to leave this between the two of them for now. Her own stubbornness had led to quick actions, though she stood by that they were the right ones to take. She had not allowed Penelope to get close, only bonding over making caramel apples in the autumn on rare occasions. Her attempt at affection had melted like the sugar coating in Florida’s humidity.  “This is just between us.”

Samantha held her hands up, palms out in a gesture of neutrality. She dropped them back to her sides before sheathing them in her pockets. She kept her gaze fixed on the other before letting a sigh escape her lips. “You’re not fine, and you can’t bullshit me.” Enough people had turned up on her doorstep in the middle of the night in far worse, drug-addled conditions or other wounds. She did what she could to keep them off her table. Though they were often met with sardonic, withering stares, she had learned to stop asking questions long ago. Penelope was far different from that usual sort, and genuine concern was written all over Sam’s face. “Ok. Sure. You’re a big girl. We can do this the hard way, or the easy way.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Let’s start with an easy one. Did you drive here tonight?”

[samanthahollis]

penelopewells‌:

It all happened rather quickly. The grip on her arm, while normally probably wouldn’t bother her sent a shiver down her spine. The heightened stimulation worked both ways, positively and negatively. It was overwhelming. The rush of it all didn’t allow her a chance to process it. Her feet were doing their best to stay underneath her as she was pulled down the side walk. The name spilling from the others mouth in a hushed tone clued her in on just who it was leading her away. Samantha Hollis was the only one who ever referred to her by her last name. It implied the disconnect the woman felt with her. It implied the disconnect the woman seemed to have with most of the world. Penelope always had a soft spot for the woman. If she meant something to Mac, she was part of their messed up little family. But, it was always clear to her Sam didn’t like her. It was always a tight lipped smile and what Penelope assumed was a refrain from what she actually wanted to say. Her brain had trouble understanding everything as it was happening. 

Stopping her feet, she hoped the woman would slow down. “What?” The word finally popped out as she grounded herself, pulling her arm from the other. “I was sitting, doing nothing?” Her brows furrowed as a genuine confusion wiped over her face. Penelope had been completely unaware of the world around her, lost in the emptiness of her own thoughts. Her arms shook lightly as the substance running through her veins seemed to cause her heart to beat faster. Taking a few shallow breaths she did her best to remain calm, in hopes the other woman wouldn’t be able to tell.

Samantha slipped her free hand into her pocket and let it linger over her phone. Her first instinct was to fob Penelope off upon Malcolm or even Garrett, though the latter had more than enough on his plate. She left it tucked away and tossed a look over her shoulder, eyeing the ones that had eyed the teacher. She respected the place the place Penelope held, and she had never gone out of her way to be unkind. No more than usual. She latched on to Penelope once more. Her grip on the other’s arm is tight, but not enough to hurt. The ease Samantha had taken the other with was unsettling. She doubled her effort to keep them both upright as she quickened their gate before finally slowing to a stop when Penelope came to a dead halt.

She turned and held the brunette by her shoulders, eyes flicking over rapidly to deduce the situation. “Ok, breathe. In, out. Got it?” Her hands stayed put, but she tried to offer a soft squeeze. “You might not have been doing anything, but some assh--” she remembered the other’s distaste for uncouth words, “some bad dudes were thinking about potentially doing something.” She made a point of directing the other to take another deep breath in a dramatic fashion before a trained hand reached out to read a pulse. The faint thump of life was a distant and foreign sensation beneath her fingers, and the flicker of a frown crossed her features as she counted to herself. “What did you take?”

[samanthahollis]

mjducaine‌:

Malcolm hummed as the woman moved onto the island - a sight he had seen many times before but one that he wouldn’t ever be tired of being privy too. He rested his palms flat against the woman’s thighs and leaned into her space, an act of defiance he had practiced throughout their marriage and otherwise. Though invading Samantha’s sphere was never an intimidation tactic, not all the time, at least. He would never admit it but he enjoyed being close to the woman. She gave him a feeling nobody had ever given him before - one of the many reasons why they had married in the first place.

“You know I like to keep you on your toes, Sam. Always have.” The man stated, making it a point to look her body over in a way that he knew she would be able to see - maybe he wanted to watch her react to his gaze, maybe he just wanted to admire her beauty for another moment before their small corner of the galaxy got washed away by the mundane routine they had become accustomed too.

Elusivity had been a trait Samantha could not have learned early enough in life. She had been born into a world of chaos, in a town too small to keep it contained. Image had been everything, yet it did little to placate what went down behind closed doors. Sam was constantly shedding the expectation of the image others had of her. She would tell you who she was, but she enjoyed being able to slip away and fade into nothingness; emerging and poised only to strike. She shuttered the vulnerable parts away, though at times it seemed like it was her whole being. Her innate aloofness and long hours were a burden to many, but her choice to be present made their time together all the more important. She had made it worth his while, and rough hands would yank her from isolation when she didn’t offer enough. There were times when she needed to be dragged back into the world of the living. 

Sam had chosen to initiate the pinioning of limbs as she perched upon the counter, yet had claimed her own space. She had welcomed the invasion early on but would dance just out of reach. She needed to be in control; even if she was manipulating things to end in a short chase. Samantha needed to be taken. This moment echoed so many others they had shared, yet it almost felt like she had never left at all -- but she had. They had both excelled at keeping the other guessing, but the game of trying to outmaneuver the other had grown tedious. Many would wither under such obvious leering, but she had flourished under it in the past. She met it currently with a quirked brow, “like what you see?”

[samanthahollis]

elinor-olsson‌:

Elinor watched from her spot leaning against the railing of the pier. So much of her life at the moment was still observing. She wasn’t entirely cued in on the normalcy of normal life. If you could call her life normal that is. It was all rather strange to her. From what she gathered the woman was asked to take a picture of the stranger with the boats. Elinor couldn’t understand what the picture was for, or why it was being taken. As the woman bopped away happy with the what seemed to be 100 photos taken, Elinor approached. “May I ask? Is that a normal occurrence?” She tilted her head slightly. “The whole have a stranger take a million photos of you with a boat, I mean?”

Sam let herself deflate after the other finally stepped away. Tourists came with the territory of living in North Shores, but at times she missed the privacy the gates of Mac’s complex offered. She didn’t have to play nice. If she couldn’t eek it out for Penelope Wells, it simply wasn’t going to happen. She made her own move to leave, but a different voice called out to her. She kept from grimacing as she turned, ready for someone else to ask for a photo. She eyed the other woman before giving a shake of her head. “To some, I suppose? They feel the need to document every single moment rather than living it.” Her eyes flicked back to the boat, specifically the tacky name plastered across its rear. “I guess she just really felt the need to let her followers know that she’s a ‘Nauti Girl.’ Probably searching for her Nauti Buoy.”

[samanthahollis]

mjducaine‌:

Malcolm let his head dip only for a moment as his former partner encircled his waist with her arm before she took his shirt - oh, the familiarity of the game they so often played. It warmed him inside for a moment, appreciating how tantalizing he had always found the woman in front of him. Even after so many years of being apart, it felt as though nothing had changed - and for right now he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Regardless, his interactions with Samantha always made a coy smirk find his lips, including this one.

It took only a single second before the man had the woman backed up against the island, one hand under her chin to force her head into a stationary position - not a hard grip, but it wasn’t particularly gentle either. He slid a knife from his back pocket and flicked it open, eyeing the woman before he let go of her face, though not letting her move away from him just yet. “Straight from the source.” The man stated, letting his dark eyes squint slightly as his smirk grew.

Samantha held his gaze and her head high. Defiance and mischief rose in her eyes; the two moods Mac could still elicit so easily. She did not flinch as the knife came into view. Their time together had taught her otherwise. If he was looking for a reaction, she was not prone to giving it so easily. Worse had been pulled on her, and Sam had always prided being able to take the punches that life, and even some people, had thrown at her. Her father had taught her to throw something right back. 

When an inch of wiggle room was given, Sam reached her arms back towards the counter. She pushed herself up to sit, and her legs circled his waist where her arm had just lingered. She placed her palm flat on his chest, wondering for a minute if they would have made it under other circumstances -- such a dangerous game to play. Sam retracted her touch but let her head tilt to the side, not offering any reaction beyond a smirk of her own. She was still probing for one. Any indication of an answer to the question she would never ask. “Always a man of surprise.”

[samanthahollis]

sidjcmes‌:

“Look at you? You know I can’t help it.” Sid shot back before pushing a hand back through her hair, eyes downcast, a preferred pose of hers. There was a system, a way of going about these things to get the most out of them. People followed for her tattoos, her androgynous aesthetic or her pleasing jawline. So hitting one or more of those demographics was paramount. “See, you already know my best side.” Right or left, they were both pretty good, but she did want to keep this woman happy while she offering up her service. Sid moved to take her phone back, flicking through the pictures thoughtfully. In truth, she was a biased judge of her own aesthetics. She’d had her time of questioning and her times of self-hatred, but for the most part, she’d surpassed that dark time. Instead of being unsure of who she was looking at she found herself quite in awe of her mirror companion. “You’re like a… Clinical lady, so I’m counting on your opinion. Would you?” 

“Don’t let my pretty face distract from capturing yours.” She was sure the other could never quite deduce what mood Sam would be in on any given day, but she had chosen to cooperate with this interaction. Though she no longer dressed simply to be undressed by another, Samantha was nothing vulgar to look at. She was an elusive creature at heart -- only furthered by long hours at work. Others were spent pounding out frustrations at the gym. It was far more acceptable to devastate an intended target rather than letting knuckles scrape against proper flesh and bone. “That’s one way of putting it,” Samantha raised her eyebrows. “I’m a doctor, not a nun.” Sam was clinical in more than one sense of the word, but she was far from sterile. That was simply reserved for the autopsy suite. “Would I do what?” She feigned a more demure manner before peering over the other’s shoulder. “Would I? If the circumstances were right. Will we? No.” She reached out a nimble finger and swiped to one she favored. “Send that one to the cute blonde I saw sneaking out this morning.” 

[samanthahollis]

coopergarrett‌:

Garrett’s glazed over eyes crinkle in appreciation, knowing he had a contact friend like Samantha Hollis to rely on meant less sleepless nights. The man offers a cordial smile to the approaching waitress - his manners would never evade him, not even in such emotionally trying times. “Two cups of coffee, please and thank you, ma’am.” He seemed to always carry a firmer drawl when asking for something, that charm of his innate to his character.

“Sorry if I’m not amazing company. Haven’t been sleeping well.” The bags under his eyes tell the story his lips didn’t have to, the sorrow and exhaustion etched into his features feeling more permanent with every passing day. “It’s either because I’m restless, or Kelsey’s up with morning sickness. … So much goin’ on.”

Samantha gave the back of Garrett’s hand one last stroke before taking the menu the waitress offered. She offered a half smile and nod in acknowledgment, settling the menu off to the side. The morning’s work had tied her stomach into knots, but she could always unravel them just enough for another cup of coffee. 

“I’m never amazing company, so I think I can let you off the hook. Just this once,” she warned, in jest. It wasn’t a rare sight to see Samantha; her eyes new-moon dark and thoroughly elsewhere. Garrett had a way of dragging her back to lucidity, and the time was nigh for Sam to attempt offering that same tether. She wasn’t sure the extent of her first reaction (Oh, Shit) to his words had scrawled itself across her features, but she let a genuine smile take its place. She had to remind herself that this was a good thing. “A baby? Hey, that’s certainly... something, right?”