Thorn watched Sam curiously as he went about his first entry into his journal.  Periodically she planned on reading what he writes but her reasoning for it is unknown.  She never really cared what Sam had going on in his mind, yet at times she yearned for him to speak.  Things were just too quiet here and silence created too much time to brood.<br/><br/>As Sam approached her, she took another sip of her coffee which had become cold and then handed the cup to him.   “I need my coffee refilled…and I want the newspaper,” she said without looking at him.  She knew he’d do just as she said without so much as a grunt of displeasure about it.  With a sigh she then added, “Get dressed, we’re going out to an early lunch in town.  And as usual I expect you to be on your best behavior because if you’re not…”<br/><br/>She didn’t have to finish her sentence with threats, Sam knew what would happen if he fucked up in any way.  The last time he stupidly looked at a passerby and gained their attention, she spent the night removing the healed skin of his stumps with a cheese grater.  If he chose to be an idiot again, she would repeat the process and make him apply salt to his own raw skin.