But what did she gain from it, Samuel wondered?   Sure, she was getting paid to extract his gifts and use it for whatever police authority needed to solve cases.  But certainly, housing him and feeding him meals were not necessarily part of the gig, was it?  And even so, what was she getting out of it personally?  I mean, who really wanted to babysit a young man who had mommy-daddy issues and hardly ever spoke to anyone?  How was it helping her?<br/><br/>Samuel had gotten his normal four hours of sleep; he didn't need much to stay alert and one cat nap during the day ensured he didn't break down into exhaustion.  Lisa didn't know, but he listened for her own morning routine so he wouldn't be in her way.  Sometimes he would walk to the local library and get all his hygenic business done there; he was afraid he might mess up Lisa's bathroom.  However, this morning was a full morning meaning he needed to take a shower.  Occasionally, he left his clothes in the bathroom due to his own forgetfulness.  He would be sure not to make this mistake this morning, he did not want to needlessly upset his benefactor.<br/><br/>Lisa had told him last night he "needed a break".  He thought to himself - so does she.  Maybe she needed a break from him; maybe she needed a break from life.<br/><br/>But the truth was, Lisa was on the verge and did not even know it.  That is, she was on the verge of Samuel opening up to her.  His own personal fears were being squashed by her gentle nature.  Even in the arguments that they had, they were petty because he would just argue to argue.  When he had trouble saying what he truly felt, he would nitpick.  He didn't know how else to communicate; and every time, he could see the frustrations of an innocent soul trying to help him.<br/><br/>Should he tell her that when he was little, the gifts used to "flow" in him and from him like it was water in a river, but as he grew up - he had learned to supress them?  It was not as if he could feel just anyone's feelings, but the atmosphere of home life was filled with so many emotions - it only served to confused him when he was a minor.  Supressing them was the only thing he could do.<br/><br/>Entering the kitchen, he held in his hand a little teddy bear.  Actually, it was his Teddy Bear from when he was a child; it was dark brown with a light brown patch on his paws and stomach and it was worn from all the hugging he had done with it when he was little.  He repeated the same thing he did the night before, placing the little bear on her seat, then setting the plates, cups, and silverware.  Unfortunately, or fortunately, he was willing to put teeth to his previous requests from the night before.  He was fully aware of the call from the police for him to go in today, and he was willing to strike a bargain to avoid it.<br/><br/>"I think you need the Teddy Bear more than me â€¦ you know" he started off slowly.  This time he approched her at the counter, motioning for whatever food he needed to put on the table to help her.  "It smells good, like always" he commented.  Samuel decided now was better than ever to give her his offer, similar to last night but with 'umph' this time.<br/><br/>"Well, I mean â€¦ I'll say this, okay Lisa â€¦ if you â€¦ how do I say it â€¦ maybe we can like come up with a compromise â€¦ no, that's not what I mean â€¦ yeah, it is I think â€¦ if I promise to go to a session â€¦ you know â€¦"<br/><br/>But there was interference; he could not form the words correctly, nor could he say exactly what he wanted to say.  Turning to Lisa, he began to cry.  Tears started pouring down from his eyes, but he tried to keep his composure.  Samuel knew there was something else for him to say, something he had never asked anyone before, and something that he needed to know maybe to get some peace.<br/><br/>His lips quivered slightly; his eyes continued flowing, he sat down, but continued looking at Lisa (though not directly in her eyes).  He was afraid he was ruining everything, but he had to ask lest he was tortured the rest of his existence.<br/><br/>So, even in this emotional state - he asked it.  "Why are you so lonely Lisa?  Why are you hurting so much, and for so long?  And why can't I ever seem to help you and be myself?"  With that, he folded his head in his hands to regain composure, then he straightened up.  He had<span style="text-decoration: underline">not </span>said what he had set out to utter, but he had asked a harder question and he was not sure if he could handle an answer.  "I mean, you don't have to say so if you don't want to" he muttered.  His hands nervously started playing with the silverware.