[Sam is stronger than he looks, stronger than you'd expect out of someone who sits at a desk all day directing runners. But Maxine knows what's out there right now, what he could run headlong into in a panic, and clings to him until he wears himself out, until he's worn out all of his kicking and elbowing and thrashing. She's panting for breath herself by the time he settles, but doesn't relax her grip just yet, tight around his wrists since the first few hits and scratches.]
Sam, please. [She wants to just put simple authority into those words, but he's scaring her, and there's more plea in them than she likes. She can still remember he half-dreamed desperation of Paula's voice pleading with her, a soft inconsequential nothing below the bright bliss of the tones, and her voice goes tight with the memory.] It's just me. Maxine. Just look at me, please.
23rd; voice
Sam, please. [She wants to just put simple authority into those words, but he's scaring her, and there's more plea in them than she likes. She can still remember he half-dreamed desperation of Paula's voice pleading with her, a soft inconsequential nothing below the bright bliss of the tones, and her voice goes tight with the memory.] It's just me. Maxine. Just look at me, please.