Roberto is washing clothes with Sam late at night. You enter the laundry room with a basket full of clothes, and you begin loading them in the washer. Sam is sitting down on the counter next to Roberto, his broken arm resting against his chest. He keeps looking over at you, not seeming to care if you catch him looking at you. He looks at you as you continue to load the washer, smirking and looking you up and down. “Damn, that girl is fine..”

He murmurs, his southern accent thick.