“You know,” Sam was already face down in his unified pancake when Sentience started the conversation he had been aching to start, "we will never make it alone.”
With a mouth full of food, but doing his best to hide the fact, Sam asked only a little bit sincerely “…m…make it wh…where?”
Sam sort of knew what these rabbits were getting at. The question was how long could he avoid the topic of ‘the Source’. Sentience seemed to know his game and those large wide eyes narrowed on its prey. “Have you not had enough?”
Sam was confused at this. As one who has been so long in the muddied waters of aimlessness and defeat, but having made a permanent home there, to suddenly be told “home sweet home” should be something else entirely. The idea is just as shocking as to discover that one’s parents are not, in fact, their parents, “wh…what do you m…mean?”
It was Battle’s turn, “Sam, what is it that you seek?”
“I…w…want to get outta…h…here,” the verbal answer was clear enough, the truth of it somehow detoured from the mark.
“And do what?” Battle was insistent that Sam face something he had no intention of facing.
“Go….go back…..h…” Sam put his head down and slunk back in his chair. The tears began to flow freely, under the calm of the two rabbits, who had all along proved themselves consistent and available… if he wanted them to be.
No one spoke for a long time. Sadness, it seemed to the rabbits, was not just for Sam to bare alone. They held up “sadness” with him until his was ready to put it down and lift up that one thing that was something way better.
After a long while, and all the tears Sam spent had formed themselves into a tiny salty puddles in his saucer, he looked up at his two, somewhat reckless friends, “wh…whatchu....got?” Walls down.