I think this whole meme is actually a really good idea, so here the things I have in the back of my mind about Sawyer as I play him:

• First and foremost, Sawyer is NOT evil. He's not a nice guy, really, but he's not evil.
• Sawyer's sense of trust was shattered when his family was destroyed at the age of eight, not because of the actions of the con man ( Read more... )

Sawyer lies awake in bed beside Delia thinking about Death.

No, not about suicide or anything. That was Death with a capital "D".

He's going over the conversation in his head. There should have been more anger and yelling things like "Why did you take them? I was only eight!"... but there wasn't. In fact, on the spectrum of conversations he's ( Read more... )

Sawyer lies on his bed with a pillow over his head. Beside him lies a copy of The Count Of Monte Cristo, another "recommendation" from the bar he'd found on his nightstand a couple of days before. He doesn't mind the random books; without a job, he doesn't have much else to keep him occupied around here when he isn't down in the bar. He just ( Read more... )

Sawyer walks outside from his room using the alternate exit. The past few days (and nights) have been especially good, and he doesn't really feel like trying his luck tonight by walking through the bar proper. The ground is still a good bit damp and slushy in places, but he finds a relatively dry spot and lies back in the grass. He pulls a ( Read more... )

Sawyer takes a moment for one last inspection in the mirror. He's shaved and wearing the suit that somehow appeared on his bed while he was showering. The suit has some weird lumps around the waist, but that's just because there's a tutu under there. Other than that, he's looking pretty decent ( Read more... )

Sawyer walks toward his room, the whole time tugging at the tutu that kept trying to give him a wedgie. He's muttering something about ballerinas under his breath that Meg should probably never hear. By the time he reaches his door, he's resolved not to leave the room for the rest of this week. Screw hunger ( Read more... )

He opens his eyes to find he's lying under the bed again. He sees his daddy's legs hanging motionless over the edge of the bed. The bag he'd brought back from... where did he bring it back from? He can't quite remember; the memory is quickly dissolving like dreams often do. Regardless, the bag is for some reason sitting across the room against ( Read more... )

James folds up his last letter and writes To Mrs. Snow on the top fold as neatly as he can. He places it on the nightstand on top of the other letters he'd written. A small backpack on the floor contains his rose puzzle, stuffed lobster, and boomerang. The stuffed bunny lies in his lap, and he picks it up and snuggles it while he stares down at ( Read more... )

He wakes up sprawled sideways in the bed with his new stuffed bunny lying in the crook of his right arm. He's disoriented at first. Waking up in a new place always does that. Slowly, he remembers the events of the previous night, and all of the sudden he feels cold. He pulls the covers up over him again and curls up on his side, holding the ( Read more... )

"Listen to mommy, this is very important. Get under the bed, don't make a sound. Don't come out, no matter what happens. Don't come out, okay?"

James can hear his dad banging on the front door. He looks at his mama, can tell she's really scared... and that makes him really scared. "Okay ( Read more... )