And here we go, "Hello, floor. Have you met my knees?"
As Sam's eyes finally settled on the couch and saw Zeph, his moment of relief was cut short: immediately he could tell his friend was drunk from the posture and slightly numb look on his face. As selfish as it was (he knew Zeph had reasons to drink) he found himself particularly disappointed, needing a friend right now more than ever. Hand still on his stomach, Sam walked forwards, wincing not at pain but at the odd feeling of skin tugging away from the cut.
"..I suppose it can't hurt." He said resignedly, reaching out to take the bottle and sip at it, wrinkling his nose at the taste before giving it back and slumping onto the couch, positioning himself so the wound on his stomach wasn't under too much pressure. "Um, Zeph..." Sam looked up at him, chewed on his lip as he considered asking for what he needed...and couldn't bring himself to do it, not right now. It was clear Zeph was hurting and while he was losing fluid, without pain it was easy to calm himself down and wait, at least for a little while.
"...Are you okay?" He finally asked from where he laid on the couch, head turned to look up at Zeph from below, grey-blue eyes reflecting the lights in the room as he studied his face.
"..I suppose it can't hurt." He said resignedly, reaching out to take the bottle and sip at it, wrinkling his nose at the taste before giving it back and slumping onto the couch, positioning himself so the wound on his stomach wasn't under too much pressure. "Um, Zeph..." Sam looked up at him, chewed on his lip as he considered asking for what he needed...and couldn't bring himself to do it, not right now. It was clear Zeph was hurting and while he was losing fluid, without pain it was easy to calm himself down and wait, at least for a little while.
"...Are you okay?" He finally asked from where he laid on the couch, head turned to look up at Zeph from below, grey-blue eyes reflecting the lights in the room as he studied his face.
SAMUEL
