He saw that. He fucking saw that. Her hand, a twitch, but not just that. The quiet judgment in her eyes. The slight turn of the body away from him. The uncontrollable tells from another human when they feel discomfort, or hate, or fear. Sam hadn’t noticed it before; something he had just said, then? His hand rubbed the cuff on his wrist. Perhaps he would keep his stories to himself, then. He didn’t need her as an enemy. He listened to her explanation, nodding occasionally, but generally lazily drifting his eyes around as if he wasn’t as focused as he really was. Seem harmless; play dumb.

After all, he was a good old guy who had made a few bad decisions, right?

“Where’s Laura?” she asked, after 

Where was Laura? Sam thought he had kept his eyes on almost everyone as they had made their way into the woods. He doubted she slipped away on purpose, although she did have a gun to defend herself with. That didn’t sit well with Sam: it meant there was either a dangerous crook with a gun roaming around alone, or a dangerous crook that had killed Laura, now had her gun, and was roaming around alone. A gun that would have been better served in one of their hands, even if he personally didn’t like using one. Too messy. Too noisy. Too traceable. Barbiturates and other drugs, those were a little cleaner. Just a tiny pin prick, hardly noticeable, and no pusher would ever risk his own neck on a hunch. Still, with the disappearance of the girl he felt the need to arm himself. He just needed an opportunity.

It came as the answer to Christine’s question: a gunshot. As the others look around for the source, or perhaps tried to use triangulation, moss, and smoke to figure out the direction of the blast, Sam slid the medical bag behind his back and grabbed what he needed. He was thankful that he had taken the time to inspect the items earlier. He slipped both the sedative and the syringe into his jumpsuit. He doubted anybody would notice, and already had an excuse ready in case if one of his fellow survivors were more aware than they seemed. Ristachev had asked for some medicine regardless of Sam’s allegedly poor medical knowledge. He saw sedative, assumed it would ease the pain, but was distracted by the gunshot. [i]You know, because I was so worried that poor Laura might be in danger,[/i] he mused. 

Perhaps Elmina would notice. He doubted she would have everything in the bag memorized, and if he did Sam was already working on an alibi. Elmina would perhaps never trust him with the medical bag again, but he had all he needed out of it anyway.

“I thought she was following me,” said Sam, knowing distinctively that she had not been. His voice dripped with a practiced naivety. “Watching our backs since she had the gun and all. Why’d she slip away?” 

He looked over to Christine, believing that differing to her would repair whatever it was that had turned her. He somehow doubted it would help.

“What should we do?” asked Sam, sighing and rubbing his neck. “We could look for her. That’d be the right thing to do, but...given the circumstances.” He shrugged half-heartedly. “All the moss won’t help us find her, and I sure as heck don’t feel good wandering around out there with a bunch of jerks playing cowboy in the woods. We should just stay put until the others arrive.”

“Unless you disagree, of course,” said Sam, flashing a wolfish smile at the others.