02-17-2014, 09:23 AM
Amory lay still there for a few moments of quiet, only a few soft, choked sobs rising from his form as the memories flashing before his eyelids drew on his slow tears. At the feel of the other brushing them away, however, something in him changed. He hardly felt Sam's fingertips just then, but the smallest brush of them against his cheek drew his tears to stop. He could feel someone there. Amory was now not only processing the conversation, but the voice and the idea of his presence were now swirling through the vortex of his clouded, shaken mind. He knew someone was there, but he also seemed to intuitively trust the presence. It was something Amory would have never simply allowed had he been awake enough.
Reaching in front of him, fingertips stretching slowly, sleepily, he would make his weak attempt to grab ahold of Sam, aimed at holding the fabric of his shirt at a place near his chest. With lacking motor skills of course, it was an attempt that could easily be evaded, and was not thought out in any manner. He just sought the feel of the other person, in some sense. "Someone's warning me..." He decided, not believing he was talking to someone in a sort of dream, "Who is it...?" His question was earnest, confusion clear as he worried of their intentions. Of who they were and why they cared.
Then, his thoughts drifting back to the voice's request, he let a small shiver run through him. He refused to answer on behalf of what damage had been done. The fully alert Amory would never attest to it, but neither would his sleeping form even betray his wishes to hide his past. What his reaction did amount to was a shift in attitude. His tears stopped, his eyebrows unfurrowing a bit as he gained some sense of certainty. The Don would kill him given any opportunity. That was simply that, and there was no way of escaping it. Oh, how he wished for an escape. The only one presented here, however, was highly unsavory. It was the mob's business. It was something Amory did not have the heart for in usual terms, but he could not help but allow his feelings to speak for him. "I want Giuseppe gone." When he spoke, gone was his broken voice, his gentle obliviousness; Amory had been offered a clear way out of his misery and he was taking it.
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