you didn't have to offer your hand

SAMUEL stretch out my life & pick the seams out The sudden noise of the front door crashing open made Sam jump and he looked up to see Zeph falling in: usually something that lifted his spirits, but it was clear right away something was wrong. With the rushed way the man staggered in and fell onto the couch, Sam only saw a flash of red on his face before he was out of view. The loud yell made him pause where he had been getting up, fingers tightening on the edge of the table; drunk people had always made him nervous. They were loud, out of control and never having experienced being drunk himself, he found it a particularly alienating state for his friends to be in. Still, the word 'stabbed' came into the conversation and he didn't have a choice, his legs carrying him quickly over to the couch so he could kneel on the ground next to Zeph. When he actually saw the wound, the way it snaked over Zeph's eye and the skin around it puckered and shone with slick blood, Sam couldn't help it: he brought his hands to his mouth as he gasped, clear horror in his voice. Unsure of what to do but feeling he had to do something, he reached out to grasp at Zeph's hand. "W-Wh--What happened?!" take what you like, but close my ears and eyes, watch me stumble over and over.