OK, so this was an exercise in NOT having the characters say each others names.
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Ground Level
The things you see at ground level.
Does Sam know he has a little rip in the right leg of his new jeans?
Does he know that when he pulls demons out of people that his right heel trembles slightly. Probably with the effort it demands. It never looks easy. Well, not to me.
When it's done, he looks over his shoulder at me. Mouth slightly open, eyes hooded and stricken. In two steps he's on me. Up in my face. Searching me. But I can't react. I feel paralysed. Vulnerable. He could do anything and I wouldn't object.
"Oh, shit," he breathes. He sees the blood. How it pools and slides down onto the concrete underneath me. And it's back up to my face. I can at least make eye contact. Even when he places a warm hand against my neck and jaw line. It's not something I'm particularly used too, but if it makes him feel better, then…
"We need a…where's your…" He fumbles around the back of my jeans for the bandana I keep in my back pocket. Jams it against my chest. Pressing.
His eyebrows knit together. Little breaths. Little whispers.
"Come on, come on…oh, shit," he suddenly forces a nervous smile, 'cos he knows I'm looking at him, and already he's doing the misty eyed thing. Way to hold it together, Sam. It's not like it's the first time.
And then he slides himself closer, his knees scraping against the grit on the ground. He lifts me away from the wall and into his embrace. Straightening my jacket, smoothing the folds. I can still see his face. See him glancing up towards the heavens. Tears from his chin to my neck.
Come on, man, there's no need for this. Just call an ambulance and we can leave this place. I mean, what are we waiting for? Have your breakdown some other time.
And then he flinches. A sudden noise. Ah, the night watchman. I can't see him but I know he's there. What a sight to behold for the poor guy. I can see Sam looking over at him.
"Hey…you want me to phone an ambulance?" he asks, his voice echoing in the vastness of the building. Yeah, you do that. Hell, a guy after my own heart. He sees it, he assesses it, and he does something about it.
Sam pulls me closer. Like, really tight. He looks down at me, eyes swimming with tears. Little inaudible sobs, that make him tremble and shake. Hey man, I get it. You're upset. Like really upset. Been through a lot lately. I've seen it. I've lived it with you. And I know how it gets, it kind of builds up on a guy. But it's never that bad, Sam. It's never something you can't handle. I mean it's not like I'm…
"No. It's too late," Sam tells the night watchman. "He's already dead."