𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 ✧ 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐲

5.

The rain had started to crash against the trees and ground, wind screeching every few minutes. Ivy looked out the window to see the mailbox rattling. It only began to pour harder after they got to her house. Sam thanked whatever God there was to thank for giving him an opportunity to stay longer.

"You're more than welcome stay here. It's warmer inside anyways."

The sound of a wheelchair rolling along the creaky wooden floors ended their conversation prematurely.

"Ivy, have you got more ink? I've run out — but I don't want you to go out in the rain to buy some more, you hear?" Her grandfather said, not noticing the large, Quileute man sitting on the living room couch in his house. That is, until Sam cleared his throat.

"Oh. Sam, my boy. Nice to see you! What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I was...interviewing him for your Quileute piece. He was kind enough to let me visit. I let him dry off here." Ivy awkwardly explained, her hands motioning between Sam and the rain.

She stuttered for another answer but the old man waved her off. "Sure, sure. Do whatever you like, but you mean to tell me you've been helping me with my research for free?" He asked, astonished. Ivy tilted her head, and raised a brow.

"....Yes?"

Her grandfather bursted out laughing, though he was wheezing most of the time and his laughs were interrupted by coughs.

"My dear, you are more of a fool than I thought you were."

Ivy feigned a small smile, unsure of his comment.

"Why on earth would do something you're good at for free?"

She looked back up at him, "Well, I'm just helping you out. I wouldn't want to get paid for this..."

"I'm giving you a job as my personal assistant. Which means you'll be helping me with my research for now, but if you'd like – after graduation, I'll give you more things to do." He offered. Ivy would've been an idiot to say no, so she didn't. After a while of polite small talk and whatnot, Grandpa Lee retreated to his study, where he was always at, after receiving three bottles of ink from Ivy.

"Well, we have more time." Ivy glanced out the window. "You mind if I take more notes?" Her voice was flat. He gestured for her to go ahead.

"But it wouldn't be fair for me." He teased, "How about we take turns asking questions?"

Ivy furrowed her brows at him, she was silent for a while. "Sure."

He wasn't certain if it was a good kind of 'sure.' Like the one where if your friend asked you out to ice cream, it would be your nonchalant reply. Or was it the kind of 'sure' you mumble out when you can tell somebody's lying?

Ivy seated herself a few inches away from him on the same couch. To Sam, she was a few inches too far.

"Tell me about yourself." He said, his full attention was on her. It wasn't really a question. She was surprised he said that, she was surprised he cared.

Ivy didn't really have a hell of a lot to say, she never did. She only spoke when necessary. Not once had he heard her speak about herself. What she liked, disliked, loved, hated.

"I grew up in Atlanta. My mom died giving birth to me and my dad...I have no idea where he is. My brother died in a car accident when I was twelve years old and I only have my grandpa."

Now he understood why she didn't talk about herself.

Ivy was emotionless after saying that. She didn't seem bothered by the loss of her family. She seemed almost indifferent.