ᴘᴏᴋᴇʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ || ʙ. ʙᴀʀɴᴇs

𝐈𝐈

Across the country, Sam was dealing with his own problems down in New Orleans. Every since the Blip, his family and their friends have been struggling a lot with financials and with his tendency to want to help everyone, he's been trying to figure everything out.

"Uncle Sam!" his nephew calls from the living room, watching his uncle walk through the kitchen door.

"What's up, kiddo?"

"Uncle Sam, you're back early!"

Sam sets his things on the counter, leaning on it and turning to his sister

"What's goin' on? You got Mom's sneaky look on your face."

"How you gonna try to read me when you know I'm the one that reads you?"

"You gotta marvel at it."

"Baby being held together by duct tape and prayers," Sarah - his sister - says, moving the kitchen window curtain aside, revealing a decaying boat, "It'll be fine. It just needs to float long enough for me to sell it."

Sam's eyebrows furrow and lowers his voice, "I thought we were gonna discuss if we were selling it."

Sarah moves back to working on filling boxes with food, avoiding Sam's gaze, "We did. And then you were off fighting Doctor Space Cape or whatever while I was holdin' it together for five long years. Now that the world is going back to normal, this thing's gotta go."

"We grew up on this thing. It's not just Mom and Dad's name on it, Sarah. This thing is a part of our family."

Sarah sighs, throwing a rag down on the counter, "You know the situation we're in. This is why I prefer not to dwell on it in front of everybody."

"Well, what if we don't have to sell it?"

. . .

Outside of Sarah's house, Sam and the boys set out foam takeout boxes of food on a table, a young, peppy looking man approaches the table, "What's good, Big Sam?"

Sam turns and shakes the hand of the man, "Oh! What's goin' on, man?"

"I'm trying to live like you," Sam chuckles, picking up another box to move, "Off to save the world again?"

He smiles and shakes his head, "Nah. Come on, Carlos. I'm around here more than you. I'm always reppin' NOLA."

"When you gonna let me borrow the wings, man?"

"As soon as you give my sister back that $100 you borrowed."

"That's cold. Now, loan me a hot $50," the man smiled and started to walk away, Sam laughed as he set down another box, "Yeah. I'll loan you $50."

Sarah came up behind Sam, resting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from walking away, "Sam, the boat's gotta go..."

"Wait."

"No, let me finish. I'm doin' everything I can to keep this business afloat. And every day I'm making $5, and spending $10."

"So, why won't you let me help?"

"No, don't start with that," Sarah looked away and started to organize the small booth in front of her.

"We made a deal before Daddy died."

"Sam, you're out there. I do things my way here."

"Right. But you tangled the house into this when you took those loans," Sarah glared at him and punched him in the arm, hard.

Sam winced and grabbed the arm that had been hit, "Forgot how hard you hit," Sarah lifted her hand to hit him again, but he put up his hands in surrender, "Sarah! Look, and don't hit me again. What if you had money to fix it up, make it nice so you can charter it when you're not out working the waters?"