After the morning's disaster, Sam voluntarily elected to take an early and long lunch. Not being around to see Ted finally pull himself together and get back to his life goal of making everyone's life just that much more miserable seemed like a really good idea. Sam sidled out from the slightly hysterical mob milling outside the Bench and wandered off, no particular goal nor destination in mind.
He meandered his way past the other shopping centers and through a slightly-run down neighborhood, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. His shoes made a 'squish-squelch" sound as he walked, and his still-dripping clothes sprinkled the ground with odd drops of water. A trail of them stretched out behind him, marking his path. It was an unusually nice day, more like summer than spring. The bright sunshine seemed to make everything brighter and more beautiful, even among the peeling paint and weeds.
An odd, half-assed peace came over him. Sam let his mind drift. His thoughts were hazy and only half-developed, like a murmur in the back of his head. He felt utterly relaxed, if in an utterly apathetic way. He eventually wandered his way into a small, quiet park. It was still too early for the daily swarm of kids; the playground was empty. Sam squelched his way over to a bench facing out from the little park and sprawled down on to it. He leaned off the bench a little and idly wrung his apron out, looking at nothing in particular.
He started when he felt a hand land on his shoulder, and nearly toppled off the bench...which was now a ski lift chair, dangling high above snow covered trees. He got a death-grip on the safety bar and pushed himself up and back into the safety of the chair, though he did not relinquish his hold on the bar.
"Watch it there, kiddo."
If Sam's hands hadn't gone numb from his grip on the icy safety bar, he probably would have given into the urge to try and beat his own head in.
He looked sullenly over at the Devil, who looked startlingly out of place in his suit and tie and Miami tan. The Devil flashed Sam a smile worthy of an ambulance chaser. Sam let go of the safety bar and hunched over, his arms hugging his chest in a futile effort to stay warm. An icy wind blew across the mountain, setting the chair to gently swaying. The sun was low in the sky, making it seem just that much colder.
"I love Nevada," the Devil mused. He was entirely unaffected by the cold. "It's an entire state dedicated to vice. Booze! Loose women!Gambling!all conveniently in one location for your pleasure. Overindulgence and sin, all wrapped up in a flashy neon package."
"Can we hurry this up,"Sam asked, a mite petulantly, as his teeth began to chatter. His experience of Nevada was more of the hot, dry desert variety. It figured that the Devil would bring him to probably the only part of it that would allow him to freeze to death.
The Devil looked at him with a disapproving eye. "It's just work work work with you, man. You need to loosen up. Look at this place! It's magnificent." As sincerely as a politician, a note of hurt crept into his voice. "I thought you'd appreciate a little ski vacation."
He gave the Devil his best glare. It was far less threatening than Sam imagined it."I'm going to freeze to death."
"Don't pout at me,"the Devil said, that predatory grin once more creeping across his face, "you're the one who's always under dressed for every occasion."
Sam crossed his arms and rolled his eyes resentfully, but didn't say anything.
The lift came to a sudden halt, sending the chair to rocking and leaving Sam vaguely motion sick on top of everything else.
"Look at this, Sammy," the Devil said. Sam looked up and spotted a skier expertly navigating their way down the treacherous slope. "Did you know that it's on the last run that most people get hurt?" the Devil continued, his tone light. "They're tired, then. Not as in control as they'd like to think. Look at this idiot. Could have been an Olympic class skier one day." He tutted as the skier cut through some trees. "But he didn't know when to quit."
Sam looked on in horror as the skier lost control, missed a turn, and slammed into a tree. The skier twitched once, but did not get up.
While Sam gaped at the unmoving figure, the Devil hoisted up the safety bar. "Well kiddo," he said, "this is your stop." Sam realized what he meant just a second too late. He looked up just as the Devil gave him a shove and sent him tumbling down towards the mountain below.
Sam crash landed into a pile of empty boxes behind the Bench. He took a second to catch his breath, before shakily picking himself up. His hands and feet still felt like blocks of ice, although they were starting to sting.
"Ah...Sam," said a voice behind him. It was Ted. "All changed and ready to get back to work, I see."
Sam looked down at himself. His clothes which had been wet - or at least frozen- not a minute before were now dry and pristine.
Sam numbly let Ted herd him back into the Bench where he was handed a mop and told to get to it.
His morning really sucked.
