Snippet #2542624

Sam's eyes lit up at the sight of the offered cigarette. She practically looked like a child, yet here he was offering her a fix. "Where have you been all my life, big guy? My sisters hate it when I smoke." Happily taking the stick there, she would flick it in his direction as a type of salute before pulling out a simple black Bic lighter and igniting the cigarette. She, too, would take a long, slow drag and watch as the cigarette burned up at the tip a bit before blowing out the smoke in a thin stream. She felt insanely more relaxed now, and any of that soft lingering pain in her leg stub was easily ignored now that she had this to focus on.

When he asked about her sisters, she froze up for a second. "I... Yeah." Her tone dropped a bit as she began speaking. "Our parents recently died. In a car accident... They were driving me home from music class and it was pretty rainy and dark. The accident took my leg and my eye. My sisters decided they wanted to get away a bit, find a place to move on..." She had even built up a little waterwork as she told her false story. "We're originally from Connecticut. A few states down, y'know? They wanted to go some place. So I wouldn't be around to see places and blame myself for mom and dad's deaths..." She took a drag off her cigarette, blowing it in the direction of her sisters. "Sorry, big guy... I didn't mean to dump my life's story on you. Heart's still a little weak. It was just a year ago..." She was really hoping her sisters were paying attention to this little story she was making up.

She cleared her throat and pretended to sidetrack herself from her "sorrow." "Anyway. Um. Who is Paul Bunyon? Some famous woodcutter, I presume? Never heard of him before."