You had known Sam for a couple of years now, you were friends that met in Stanford. You were there on an athletic scholarship for tennis while Sam was studying pre law.

Sam had opened up to you about his 'family business' which didn't surprise you at all since your family had dabbled in the same practices. It was a strong basis for a friendship.

After a few months after he left school you got a call from him asking if you would help him and his brother on a case— you had agreed.

It had been a while since you saw Sam, and you were delighted to see him again, but of course hunting called so the catchup would have to be delayed.

It was a night in, researching whatever this monster could be. Sam had showed up at you your motel room door to help you brainstorm.

It was late, you were tired, and it wasn't your fault that Sam would always wear a shirt just a little too short for him. Effectively showing off his boxers waistband.

You were sat on the floor, looking at a bunch of papers you had got from the local newspaper from the town, trying to connect any similarities in the missing persons cases in the past few months.

Sam was sat at the small table, just a few feet in front of you, typing away on his laptop.

You had accidentally zoned out and your eyes were focused on the band that sat snugly around his hips. He really hadn't changed since college.

"You good down there?" Sam snickers out, trying to catch your attention.