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"I didn't think you got my call."
The apparent man seated at Carlito's glanced up from his perfectly made mojito--really, there were only so many places on the planet that you could find someone who truly knew how to make a mojito and the bartender at this little part of Miami was one. "Michael Westen, you haven't called on me for some time." And, oh, he remembered the last Christmas he had. It hurt his heart to think on but there was only so much he was allowed to do, and stopping Frank Westen's fists wasn't a part of it.
Michael frowned at him. "Sam, are you drunk?"
Sam. Samuel Axe. He didn't think resemblance was that great, but he could understand the confusion. "No--"
But Michael wasn't listening. "Good. We need to go now. He moved up the meeting."
He stared at Michael's back as he started walking back to the very nice Charger. Michael was a good boy, occasionally a little too naughty to end up on the Nice list, but he'd been doing better since coming to Miami. His willingness to help those in need might not have been started by true choice, but he had chosen it nonetheless.
A touch of magic let him know that Samuel was currently being a bit naughty in a way that wouldn't knock him off the Nice list. He pulled the magic back quickly, once he was assured that Samuel would not be checking his phone in time.
Tossing back the rest of his mojito, he stood and walked after him. He was here to participate in acts of kindness, after all, as well as drink some mojitos.
Michael tapped his fingers on the wheel. Sam had gone in twenty minutes ago, he should've give Michael a signal by now.
Maybe he should've ditched this plan and called Fi in. He didn't know what was going on with Sam, but he was acting off. And he wouldn't take off that ridiculous red hat no matter how many times Michael asked him to on the way over.
Logically, he knew it sometimes took Sam to work his 'charm' as Chuck Finley, but it didn't easy his concern that something had gone wrong. All he had to do was get him to agree to the sale. Once they knew where the tainted drugs would be, they could set the trap and have the police bring the gang in.
But what if they weren't being agreeable? What if they saw through Sam's act because of whatever was going on with him today? The door opened, cutting off Michael's spiraling thoughts. Sam was smiling, one hand on the gang leader's shoulder as they walked out.
Michael's brows drew together. He picked up his binoculars to get a closer look. But no, his eyes weren't deceiving him, the drug dealer was also smiling... through tears. He grabbed onto Sam's arm and, in a move that almost had the binoculars slipping from Michael's hand, threw himself at Sam in a hug. Sam simply patted him on the back. As they fully cleared the door, the rest of the gang trailed out, wiping at their eyes and noses.
What the fuck did Sam do?
There were some handshakes, then Sam was jogging across the street towards him. He got into the car, a proud smile still beaming from his face. It looked oddly rosy, and Michael once again wondered if he was drunk.
"Sam?"
"They've all agreed to turn themselves in."
"...What?" His first instinct was to say they were lying. Then his brain caught up and wondered why Sam would have brought up them turning themselves in in the first place.
Sam sighed. "A human action, once taken, can never be changed, but a human heart, that can always be changed. They have taken to first step to changing their hearts. Be happy for them, Michael."
He was not touching that. "You believe them."
Sam looked at him. Met his eyes. And something in Michael froze because those were not Sam's eyes. They held a warmth that made Sam's look subdued. They were ancient. Ageless. They went straight to his soul, and he couldn't breathe. "I believe them, as should you." His smile changed, softening. "I am sorry, Michael Westen, that I could not help you more when you wrote to me." He didn't break eye contact as he got back out of the Charger. "You have a choice ahead of you. You have the strongest potential for good. Do not lose sight of it, and you will stay on the right path." With that, he broke eye contact.
Michael blinked, breath rushing back. And the man he'd thought was Sam was nowhere in sight.
His phone rang. Michael fumbled for it. "Hello?"
"Hey, Mike, sorry I missed your call. Where's the meeting happening?"
Michael swallowed. "Don't worry about it, Sam. It's taken care of."