Who: Linn and Sammy
When: 10:37AM
Where: Econo Foods

If he could have, Sammy would have been muttering beneath his breath, but as it was, he couldn't, but the light scowl on his face gave away how he felt quite well. When Helen had said - not even an hour ago - for Sammy to go get something she could make for supper since she 'hadn't been expecting guests' Geo had waved for him to go so that he and Helen wouldn't have yet another fight. So, here he was now, wandering the aisles of Econo Foods searching for something to take home. ...no, no. To take back to Helen's. Helen's wasn't home, home was burned down.

Linn was up rather early for it being the weekend, but truth be told, he hadn't been able to sleep very well last night. The news of the fire at the Willliams' house -- so soon after all of the crazy-weird vampire crap -- had him on edge. So when his mom had sent him to the store for maple syrup for the Constables' Sunday morning brunch, he had gone almost willingly. To be alone, out of the house full of little sisters, was a relief. But more so, this would give him a chance to ask around... Where would the Williams brothers be staying? Would they be leaving Marquette? It was a small town. Rumors would be flying already. He entered Econo Foods, heading for the side aisle where he knew the maple syrup was kept.

Lucky for Linn, he wouldn't have to find out via rumors what was going on. Yes, Sammy was looking for something that would be good for dinner, but he wasn't really casing the grocery store in a well thought out manner. As Linn headed down the aisle, Sammy was coming up it, blankly staring at the products lining the shelves and occasionally reaching out to run his fingers along the edges of the shelves. He looked up as a figure came into his peripheral, then waved slightly - not very enthusiastically - at Linn as he recognized him. That was one of the people he'd forgotten to tell Geo to text. Oops.

At the sight of Sammy there in the store, Linn froze. There he was! Linn hadn't considered that he'd actually run into Sammy. He smiled brightly at Sammy, and then just as quickly his face frowned. You don't smile at someone whose house just burned down! And... yeah. Those rumors about the parents... Damn. What does someone say to his lab partner/sort-of friend in this situation? Linn took a deep breath and urged his feet to step forward, nearing Sammy. "...Hey, Sammy..." he said quietly, with obvious awkwardness. "What's up?" ....dumb.

What was up? That was...an almost normal question. It was a good question. It meant he didn't have to say anything about the fire, or about his parent's d-...about his parents. Not that the question wouldn't come up, but he kind of hoped it wouldn't. He didn't want to talk about it. It could just stay, like, buried or whatever. Sammy waved his hand at the store in general, shoulders rising in a small shrug before he went digging for a smallish notebook he'd lifted from the house - he suspected it was Marek's, but he didn't really care. "Not much. Sister sent me to get something for dinner. Since my Nana is flying in this afternoon."

Linn nodded. "I know how you feel..." What? No, he didn't! He blundered on quickly. "I mean, I'm on an errand too. Maple Syrup." He reached out to the shelf and grabbed a jug of it, and held it up to show Sammy. "For brunch." He eyed Sammy's empty hands, well, empty except for the notebook and pen. "...What are you going to get?" Linn relaxed slightly. As Sammy didn't mention the fire, there was less tension and Linn worried less about saying the wrong thing.

Sammy looked at him in silence for a minute, eyes ticking to the bottle of maple syrup and then back to Linn's face before his shoulders rose in a second, helpless, shrug. He really didn't know what he was going to get. Hence the walking aimlessly about the grocery store and winding up in the aisle with syrup - there wouldn't be anything for dinner in this aisle, he was sure. Unless Helen wanted to make pancakes, which he doubted she would. "...don't know. Pancakes sound good. Helen won't want, though."

"Right, pancakes. I mean, we aren't just eating the syrup," Linn explained unnecessarily. Then he lifted an eyebrow. "Who's Helen? Your Nana? ...or your sister?" He couldn't imagine anyone not wanting pancakes, but maybe that was because he lived with a bunch of kids who had sweet tooths. His sister must not be younger...Kids always liked pancakes. Already he was getting distracted from the real matter-at-hand: the fire.

His being distracted from the subject was exactly what Sammy was aiming for, though he really didn't dwell on the fact that Linn wasn't asking questions about it. As Sammy answered Linn's question he looked away, trying to pull his thoughts together so that he could figure out which aisle to go down next. Maybe he'd go down the aisle with pasta? Pasta was good. "Helen's my sister. Lives here -" Apparently "-Nana is. Was mama's mother." ...and oh, it hurt to think about that. "Lives in Kentucky. Flying up."

Helen. Helen, Helen, Helen. Linn tried really hard to commit her name to memory. He was so bloody awful at names, though. Like, for the life of him, he couldn't remember Sammy's parents names, and he knew for a fact that Sammy had told him. And then, quite suddenly Linn remembered the whole thing about Sammy's parents again. The rumors that they hadn't survived the fire. Stricken, Linn's eyes lifted from the maple syrup to Sammy's face. "..." He opened his mouth to say something --anything-- but no words came. So in one solid movement Linn's arms reached out and yanked Sammy into a hug, grasping him tightly around Sammy's narrow shoulders.

Sammy noticed the look of almost-horror that passed over his face and watched Linn open his mouth to say something, almost dreading what would come out. Yeah, he was sad – he was really, really sad – but he…didn’t want all the words. It just made what had happened all the more real, and all the more painful. A couple of seconds later Linn still hadn’t said anything – his mouth was still open – and then… In one movement Linn was grabbing him and pulling him to him, pulling him close as he hugged him tightly, as if that would make all the awful go away. Sammy’s chest hurt as he wished that all the awful would go away, even though he knew that it wouldn’t. And right now? This hug was something he needed. Maybe when he got home he’d hug Geo.

Linn felt Sammy respond to his hug, and gave him one more tight squeeze before letting go of the smaller boy. It was only natural that Linn would hug him. His family was touchy-feely, especially when it came to situations like this. Physical responses were always the most comforting to him, and thus the easiest to give. And yet... Linn felt a little awkward after hugging Sammy. He cleared his throat slightly and he rubbed the back of his neck. "So....ah. Dinner?" he asked, referring to Sammy's purpose of being here at the supermarket.

Right. Dinner, right. Sammy pushed the part of him that wanted one more hug – just one more – down with an iron fist and nodded firmly, stepping back from Linn and looking about the aisle. “Not likely to find anything here,” his next note read before he leaned to poke his head out of the aisle and look to the left. “Definitely thinking pasta. Don’t trust Helen to cook red meat. Don’t eat chicken. Definitely don’t eat pork.” Not with Nana coming in the afternoon; absolutely no pork.

"...You don't eat chicken?" It was one of Linn's favorite things to eat. That and strawberries. He studied the syrup in his hands. Okay, and pancakes, to be honest. His eyes glanced up at Sammy, but Sammy was busy, still writing, so he finished reading what he had written. Oh... and no pork, either. Dang. Sammy was making him hungry talking about food. But Sammy looked...Well, happier, somewhat. Like maybe thinking about food was making him happy? It always made Linn happy. Unless... well, hmm. Maybe hugging made Sammy happy too? He cleared his throat. "Why not?"

"Nana's Jewish," came the answer, rather quickly as Sammy spotted the correct aisle and glanced back over his shoulder at Linn. "Helen would cook pork. Mean like that - won't give her the option though." That would be bad. And this subject was so much better than having to talk about what had happened Saturday morning - much better. Linn was definitely racking up points for not talking about it, that was for sure. "I don't eat pork, either. Nana rubbing off. Something - don't even like the thought of eating it now."

"I don't like pork," Linn assured Sammy quickly as he started following Sammy to what he figured was the spaghetti aisle. Well, he didn't mind eating pork. He'd eat anything that looked tasty that was put in front of him. But in all honesty, he preferred chicken and turkey. His thoughts shifted back to what Sammy had said. The thing about being Jewish confused Linn. He really wasn't sure what that had to do with it. But he didn't ask. Instead he asked, this time more pointedly "You don't eat chicken? Why not?"

“Um…” That question there wasn’t a reasonable, sane-sounding answer for, no matter how hard Sammy tried to come up with one. Well, there wasn’t a sane-sounding true answer, though there was a sane-sounding lie he could tell. After dropping a couple of cans of tomato sauce into his basket, mentally noting he’d need to go for garlic and onion powder, basil and oregano, he started for the pasta again, writing as he walked. “Mom always worried. Thought it wouldn’t get cooked. So, never made it. Kind of carrying over now.” It definitely wasn’t because a chicken was a bird, and Sammy could turn into a bird. Nope.

It was enough of an answer for Linn. But the mention of Sammy's mom made Linn frown as his mind was again being brought back to the thought of the fire and Sammy's parents. He was silent as they walked to the pasta. Think pasta. Pasta, pasta, pasta. NOT fire. "Never got the taste for those bow-tie ones. Doesn't hold the flavor of the sauce at all," he commented, and he started wondering what kind of pasta Sammy would pick, rather than wondering what Sammy would do for clothes or which of his favorite things got burned up.

"I like ziti." Sammy stated, bypassing the bow-ties. "They hold flavor." Maybe it was the shape that helped with that. All the sauce got stuck inside the tunnel of the noodle or something like that, he wasn't really sure. He got the mental image of his dad burning himself on one such pocket of hidden sauce and winced, nearly bypassing the ziti noodles, too, but stopping himself. Forcing himself to take a box. "What do you like best?"

That was a tough question, and Linn was momentarily distracted by it. He didn't know names of pasta. He ate what was put in front of him. Except for the bowties; those ones he liked to complain about. His eyes scanned the shelf and settled on the ziti, the ones Sammy was picking up. "I like those ones, too," he said. And then, he saw the elbow macaroni and he pointed to those ones. "And these, too. Any ones that are like little pipes." Man, pasta sounded good. He got out his phone, prepared to text his mom to tell her they should have pasta for dinner.

"Basically you like all types. But not bow-tie noodles." What else could he get? Anything else? He wanted to stay here as long as possible where the only important thing he had to think about was what was cheapest. Not like he could, but he was hoping anyhow. "Think I should get garlic bread?"

"I guess so..." So maybe he wasn't so picky about noodles. Then Linn nodded quickly with a smile. "But yes, garlic bread! You get that frozen stuff?" That was the kind his mom often got. It was a lot easier than slicing and spreading for the army of kids she had to feed. "We might have some extra in the freezer at home." Was that charity? Nah, Linn didn't think so. Something about the way Sammy was looking right now... well, he looked like he needed to feel like someone cared. Obviously, after what he had been through, Linn reminded himself. And offering some garlic bread? It was just Linn's way of showing he cared.

Sammy looked at him, a small, half-smile tugging his lips upwards. If they went to Linn's house, and he actually got the bread from there, it was more time he didn't have to spend back at Helen and Marek's. "Parents won't mind?" He asked, amazed he could even write that particular word. If they would, he'd just buy it here, but if they didn't... "If they would, we don't have to do that, but if they don't..." The rest was left unwritten as he shifted from one foot to the other, pushing the handles of the basket further up his arm so it rested comfortably in the crook of his elbow.

Linn grinned and shook his head. "No way. They won't even NOTICE." His mom didn't have spaghetti on this week's menu, so she wouldn't be trying to make garlic toast. It sure was useful that his mom was overly organized on some things -- such as planning ahead for meals -- and less organized on other things -- such as keeping track of how much food her huge brood of children ate. "Wanna get that stuff and then we can head to my house?" Something made Linn's stomach squeeze just slightly. He was hungry or something.

"Yeah." His head dipped in a small nod, curls slipping across the sides and back of his neck. "Thanks for...this." For the hug. For talking mindlessly. For inviting me to your house. It all went unwritten - he didn't want to write much at all right now. "Let's finish up here."