Sam
I am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam
And no one in his right mind would make my home his home
Sam was happy to see the dust clear off now, collecting as much of it as he could into a tub to toss outside - it was amazing just how much running a cloth over could transform an object from an old, grey thing to something new and ready to be used. Already, he could see where he might put his inkwells or paper sheets, where would be good for bending the leather...not that he would presume to be able to claim a desk already, of course.
(Secretly, he did wonder if Amun might let him make a corner of his own. After all, they were almost-dating).
So, repair work. Not exactly his forte, but he'd have a go. Picking things up and setting them down straight, bending crooked legs or wires back into position, putting things that were too complex for him to solve in a pile. Pretty soon, the space was starting to look less like a dump and more like a studio.
---
Sam tootles around repairing stuff.
(Secretly, he did wonder if Amun might let him make a corner of his own. After all, they were almost-dating).
So, repair work. Not exactly his forte, but he'd have a go. Picking things up and setting them down straight, bending crooked legs or wires back into position, putting things that were too complex for him to solve in a pile. Pretty soon, the space was starting to look less like a dump and more like a studio.
---
Sam tootles around repairing stuff.
When I try to open up to you I get completely lost
Houses swallowed by the earth, windows thick with frost
