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Jesse’s grip tightened on Sam’s clammy hand as they were – analysed [i]and[/i] looked down on? – by Mrs. Cassiopeia Carrington. If this was what having a mother was like, she was glad she had missed out. Sunglasses were a godsend. It meant so that when she nodded at the woman who was their generous host, the tightness around her eyes didn’t give her instant dislike, even hatred, away.

[i]Unsavoury measures[/i]... Who did this woman think she was? Jesse had known Sam for more of her life than her own mother did! She wanted nothing more than to suggest rather loudly that they should just head home, because Jesse wasn’t going to take someone insulting her – well – insulting [i]Sam[/i] in front of her face, even if they did share blood. That isn’t what she did, however.

“A pleasure, ma’am,” Jesse said with some stiffness, falling back on the Southern charm drilled into her from the pseudo-spaghetti western her life as a deputy had become. She had [i]decades[/i], decades of dealing with people she didn’t like, like drug addicts (that weren’t Sam), drunkards (that weren’t Sam), and the occasional woman-beater. The voice she used to address Cassiopeia was no warmer than it would be for any of those. “But there’s plenty of people who care about Sam more than enough to [i]tolerate[/i] her.”

Jesse hoped to God this Cassiopeia would take it as a challenge, and she thought daggers at her. [i]Yeah, that’s right[/i], they said, [i]I care more about your daughter than [u]you[/u] ever have.[/i]

Sam turned quickly at Jesse’s words, the turmoil that she had felt from her mother’s greeting fading into a warm light as she squeezed Jesse’s hand and smiled in thanks. Turning her gaze back to her mother’s slate-like face, Sam tilted her head, her own green eyes steely and devoid of emotion. Cassiopeia Carrington… They shared a last name, but were they really related? Sam hadn’t seen her parents for, what, thirty years now? And still, after all this time, they greeted her with cold words and even colder gazes. Sam shook her head slowly, rage and guilt and sadness burning in her mind, but she soon tore her glare away to look at Jesse, eyebrows upturning slightly.

“Let’s just find our seats, okay? Come on, Jesse.” She tugged at her girlfriend’s hand, tightening her grip as she closed the distance between herself and her parents. Her face turned hard with emotionlessness, her posture straight and stiff as she passed Cassiopeia quietly, and eventually the two were away from Sam’s family’s cold stares and on the plane. Sam loosened her grip on her poor friend’s hand, and she sucked in a deep, tired breath, her lip trembling slightly as she fought off the urge to cry, “so…” She started, voice stiff, “that was my, er, family. Great people, aren’t they?” Sam hugged herself in an effort to stop her body from shaking, and her eyes focused on her feet as her cheeks turned red with anger and embarrassment.

Jesse frowned in concern, her brows knitting together in an expression that was a contradictory mix of complete confusion and long-awaited understanding. Sam had told her about her parents, of course, when they were both younger, but now she had met her girlfriend’s mother, all was clear. Cassiopeia Carrington was a raging bitch that was off-the-charts on the verbally abusive scale, by what she’d heard of the woman’s replies to the rest of her children – as if her reaction to Sam wasn’t enough for Jesse to make a snap judgement.

“You’re nothing like her. I wouldn’t’ve known you two were related,” Jesse promised her, but she didn’t feel like letting Sam hold herself together. “Hey, c’mere.” She slipped a strong arm around Sam’s waist and pulled her in for a solid hug, ignoring that under all her expensive fur she felt even more fragile than before – all skin and bones.

In the process, she leaned over to whisper to her, “If they say anything else like that, I’ll punch them. I don’t care if it’s your dad, or your mom, but they’re getting a shiner.” Jesse was completely serious, which was unsurprising. She’d jumped to Sam’s defense in the (distant) past a few times, mostly at seedy bars when they were both underage. Sam sighed once, allowing her head to rest gently on Jesse’s shoulder. Whenever she was by her friend, Sam either felt incredibly calm or incredibly mad. They didn’t have a perfect relationship, sure, but Sam really couldn’t imagine her life without Jesse right now.

“Thanks, Jesse.” She whispered, closing her eyes as she breathed in and out softly. This trip wasn’t going to be easy, she knew that, but as long as she had Jesse by her side (and a LOT of alcohol) she’d be fine. She may even enjoy it, if her family kept to themselves. Sam shook her head slowly, pulling away quickly, “but we should find our seats, yeah? Just… Ignore anything my family says for now.” She muttered, green eyes glazed slightly.