Sam gave a big grin, more out of relief than anything, when the police officer took off in his vehicle, leaving the two of them standing there on the side of the road. He was pretty sure he'd seen some shape moving in the shadows of the trees and brush nearby, but his attention was shifted away from that when Micky wrapped his arm around his neck, pulling him in close, greeting him in that usual way of his, sounding as if nothing was going wrong, despite the blood that was on his face at the moment. "Ha, I don't usually but I couldn't sleep anymore." He grins again, standing up straight when he was let go, running his hand over the top of his hair, flattening any hairs that happened to decide to stick up after that short headlock Micky had given him.<br/><br/>When Micky spoke again, it was an explanation as to what had happened, and at first, Sam could only stare. He blinks a few times, and uncertain smile cracking on his face, and he starts to laugh, a chuckle at first, then louder, until he just suddenly stops. Staring wide eyed at Micky, who seemed to be completely serious. "W...WHAAAAT?!" He couldn't believe his ears, but if he'd learned anything about his few months living here, he had learned to believe that anything could happen. And with Micky's personality, it was far from disbelief that the guy would do something like that. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. After a moment he reaches out and punches Micky in the arm, the grin back on his lips, and a playful fire in his eyes. "You shoulda brought me with you man! Let me tag along next time, k?" He laughs softly, reaching up and placing his hands behind his head, linking his fingers together. For a while, he'd hated his brother for bringing them here, though he was not as obvious about it as his younger brother, though after a while he realized what a cool place this was, especially after meeting Micky.<br/><br/>The two young men began to walk along the road, back towards town, and Sam was about to answer Micky's question as to what he was doing that day when he was interrupted by a flash of movement, followed by Micky being knocked over on the ground. He could only stare at the spot where he was sure the figure had dashed off to, glancing down at Micky, offering a hand to help him back up. What the heck had that been? Was it what he'd seen earlier? Probably...but he really didn't want to stick around to see what it was, so nods in agreement when Micky said for them to keep going. He sure hoped it was gone...if that thing could knock Micky down, he wasn't too sure what would happen if went after himself.<br/><br/>From the corner of his eye, as they walked, he glanced at Micky, noticing that the gash on his face seemed smaller...Weird...but that didn't mean there was any less blood on his skin. "Oh...right..." He opens the flap to his bag, and rummages around inside, pulling out a couple packets of wet wipe towelette, the kind you'd find at like a hospital or something, in those paper foil packs and smelled like lemon sometimes. "Here." He holds out the packs to Micky, in order for him to clean up the dried blood off his face. If he'd been a girl no doubt he'd have offered to clean it off himself, but since he wasn't, the guy would have to do it himself. He couldn't help but grin at the image that popped into his head, amused at the things his brain could come up with on the fly at times...<br/><br/>"As for what I'm doing today...Nothin'. Hanging out with you if that's cool. My bro is gonna stay at home and clean, and I really don't want to babysit Lucas, though...he's old enough to take care of himself." Besides, though the two cared for each other very much, they often clashed due to personality differences. Lucas was more serious, contrary to Samuel, who was relaxed and happy-go-lucky. He liked to have fun, hang out with friends, while Lucas...well, was Lucas. Even though it wasn't even school time, he was probably going to stay at home and study. Such a book-nerd. "Oh, right, you haven't met my brothers have you?" He could only imagine what both of his brothers would say, meeting someone like Micky. "What about you? What are you doing today? Besides hijacking the sheriff's truck?" He grins at this, still amazed that Micky had done something like that. They were nearing the town, much closer to this point, Sam had moved his hands from the back of his head to shove them in his pockets.<br/><br/>In the flower shop, Feign listened to the man talk, smiling softly as she took care of the wound on his forehead. She couldn't help but wonder how he'd gotten such a gash but knew better than to ask something like that. With every touch, even though she wasn't consciously thinking about it, bits of energy siphoned from herself to the male, healing him ever so subtly. It wasn't like one might think, with the glowing hands and the sensation of something flowing through them, but instead, something that couldn't be felt, or seen, nor was it even noticeable. The only thing was that it would heal a bit faster. She made sure to clean it properly, and added antibiotics before placing a sterile pad over the cut, gently using a couple pieces of tape to hold it down. Stitches would not be necessary, and Feign was sure there would barely even be a scar left as after effects.<br/><br/>"It looks alright...you shouldn't need to go to a hospital, and if things go well it should heal pretty well. No scar to mar that handsome face." She grins at him, chuckling softly as she turns to put away the medical kit she'd pulled from a cupboard. As she stood back up, she looked to him, surprised to hear the offer for dinner in payment for her services. A smile forms on her face, and she tilts her head to the side, a faint blush forming on her face. "Why, thank you. I would love to go out for dinner, it has been quite some time." Though his inquiry of her to show him interesting places and tell him of interesting people was amusing to her. Interesting was pretty much the vibe of this town, and the mascot word to describe it. There wasn't anything that WASN'T interesting here.<br/><br/>She gestures for him to stand, reaching up and pinching the end of the lit cigarette, ignoring the offer of the packet towards herself. "No smoking in the bathroom." She showed no signs of being burned or anything, instead absentmindedly wipes the ash off the tips of her fingers on a towel, stepping out of the bathroom and having him follow her. "As for myself...to your question earlier, I'm from Europe. As for WHERE in Europe, and how I ended up here..." She turns to face him, a teasing expression in her eyes. "You're going to have to do a lot more than buy me dinner to get<span style="font-style: italic">that</span>information." Walking back down the stairs to the shop area, she heard him say his name. Billy D. Blayde. Facing him again, she tilts her head. "Well, that's an interesting name. Are you sure it's your real one? If it is, well...I like it. Unique. Nice to meet you, Billy." She grins, though her attention was shifted when the bell to the front of the shop rang.<br/><br/>"Ah, Mrs. Hemmings, so good to see you. I have your order ready. Wait here a second." She moved around Billy to go into a back room, shuffling around looking for the flowers that the elderly woman had ordered for Feign to put together in a wreath design. Feign was pretty sure that it was for Mrs. Hemmings' husband's grave, who had died over twenty years ago. Feign remembered very well that rainy day. It had been quite depressing, especially for such a kind old man, but humans died...and everyone had their time. Feign remembered, but no doubt others wouldn't, as she looked a bit different then. The old woman stares at Billy but looks towards Feign when she returned to the room, placing the wreath in a box to keep it from falling apart, wrapping it with a bow and tying it beautifully.<br/><br/>They go over to the register, and the woman pays for the flowers, exchanging a bit of word among themselves, and eventually, Mrs. Hemmings leaves, Feign waving to her receding back as she goes out the door. "Such a nice woman. Her loss is still painful, even now." She murmurs this, before turning her eyes to Billy again. "I don't know you very well, but I can tell a stranger from the next...do you have a place to stay? If you'd like...you can use the space upstairs." She smiles at him, understanding if he chooses to say no to her offer. After all, like her not knowing him, he didn't know her that well either.<br/><br/>Tick.<br/><br/>Tick.<br/><br/>Tick.<br/><br/>The clock seemed to go ever onward, not stopping, not quitting. A constant event, something that would always move. The hands on the clock, the ticking of the time. Seconds would turn to minutes, minutes to hours, hours into days, days then turn to weeks, and months, then years...and years go on forever. Tens, hundreds, thousands...millennia. There was no end. No end at all, no end in sight. Nor was there a wish for that to happen. Everyone wanted to live...everyone wanted to keep going...No one wanted to die.<br/><br/>Tick.<br/><br/>A world of black and white, a world that seemed to only do one thing. move forward. Always. No one seemed to have the time, no one seemed to have the time to stay. To live. But they all said goodbye in the end. None stayed. They all eventually left him behind. Yes...they were always abandoning him in the end. But that was what he wanted. And yet, even though he did...it felt so sad. Saying goodbye...was what he wanted, and what he hated.<br/><br/>Tick.<br/><br/>Kneeling in a small corner off to the side of the police department, in an old parking lot to a store that was no longer open, knees to his chest, arm wrapped around his legs, he stared at a bug that was turned on its back, legs flailing, trying to get itself upright again. Red eyes stared intently at the insect, bottom lip slightly sticking out as he gazed upon the will of nature. Should this tiny little spark of life fade away, or would it fight on? It all depended on its strength and longing to live. If it was to live...it would. That was all there was to it. And that was all there was to them dying. They didn't live...because they were not strong. Like the fire.<br/><br/>The fire was strong.<br/><br/>They weren't.<br/><br/>That was all there was to say, no matter what. He sighs, remembering. The internal fight. The struggle to escape. The pain across his skin. The pounding of his heart, the screams, the sound of fire. His throat tightening, the gasping for air. Though the sense of guilt...had been the strongest sensation. He could hear the voices, and then he couldn't. They had gone away to a place never to return, leaving him behind...becoming...this.<br/><br/>Reaching out, he pokes the bug softly with the tip of his finger. It gets to a point where it was just about to be able to right itself, but then he moves his hand away, making it fall back, rocking back and forth. A half grin forms on his lips, as after a while the legs of the bug slowly come to a stop, curling inward towards its body, before coming still. "Sore wa shinde iru...Dead..." He mutters, sighing softly, the frown replacing his grin once more. Dead. It was dead.