The bottles that Sam had gotten had surprised him. Like the one that Chris had rejected, Sam likewise had decided to uncork it and, in a fit of perhaps ill-advised catharsis, had hucked one labeled "Sam Strand" straight back into the ocean to let the water seep into it and send it glug-glug-glugging right down to the bottom. The rest had been carefully tucked into his pack to be opened and read later, when he was feeling more up to opening them. He'd find uses for those bottles.

He's distracted up until one of Chris' letters slaps against his shin, and he first glances around to see who it belongs to, then snatches it before it can get away, before stumbling after one of the others to snag.

Carefully, he puts his foot on the corner of the third to keep it from blowing off in the breeze. Lou, strapped to his chest while everyone else was otherwise occupied with the meeting and the bottles, is reaching for the rescued letters when he straightens up to offer them back.

"Hey Freeman, you good?"