[color=0076a3][center][b]Sam[/b][/center][/color]

As James walked past her, Sam took the fleeting liberty of allowing her charcoal gaze to drift along his form with blatant curiosity. The corner of her mouth twitched with amusement at her own behavior before she stepped away from the cabin and turned to latch the door. Although she'd definitely been one to flatten a wayward werewolf or two for becoming a little too rowdy amongst their nude pack members when the attention was unwanted, Sam was loath to ignore a nice view of someone she didn't know enough to scorn. 

Catching up to James in time to watch his expression change in reaction to her question, Sam experienced a flicker of regret at having asked, but knew she'd have done so again if it meant protecting the pack. It was, perhaps, her most conflicting moment to demand information from others when she would fight to keep her own story hidden. When he had finished the telling, Sam reached out a hand to lightly press his shoulder and offered a slight smile.  

 [color=0076a3]“It's not so bad being a werewolf. And many people ignore who they are, I suppose. We just can't do so very well when the moon forces us to obey once a month.”[/color] Athough Sam felt a certain reluctance to reach the pack house and dive into the waiting fray, she kept them at a quick pace until they finally broke through the tree line and approached the house. Sam sprang up the stairs, heading for the cabinet of drawers. She inspected several, turning to speculatively eye James between each drawer, and finally found clothing she thought would fit well. Pointing to it, she stepped aside to pull out her own clothing.

[color=0076a3]“Those should fit. You can riffle around if you want something else.”
[/color]
Sam tugged on jeans and a tank top, skipping the undergarments and shoes that were too likely to be destroyed. During her 8 months as a werewolf, Sam had ruined enough clothing. Once dressed, Sam turned, settled her shoulder and hip against the cabinet, and studiously watched James.