(open) 'cause we find ourselves in the same old mess

Samuel

As he realised the beams of light were coming towards him, Sam ducked and let out an undignified 'wahh-!' sound; thankfully, they stopped short of actually frying his face off, and he stood up, trying to clear his throat and straighten out his shirt as if he had stood there stoically the whole time. "It's um..it's alright."

Not being fond of wasps himself he laughed, the sound a little high-strung and anxious from the near-face burning still, but a laugh nonetheless, one Sam was a little surprised by. It wasn't often he agreed with Wessex on something or that they discussed something so nonchalant and easy. "Absolutely. The Atheneum has Paper Wasps, which aren't even natural-" He wrinkled his nose with clear disgust. "They cause so many problems."

He watched her leave the shed, was about to make some excuse to leave and quietly pardon himself, but then Sam noticed that whatever Wessex was gathering in the wheelbarrow had been heavy enough to get stuck. Against his usual shy, avoidant nature, he went to help. "What are you doing with all this ash?" Sam asked as he went to lift the front of the cart with all his strength, trying to dislodge it and pull it over the mud.

I was not ready for the road
I was so discontent to wear that heavy load