Cavan shook his head, then looked up. "No. Not at all."
He moved around the counter, looking at the woman. She had been neatly pinned to the counter, but it had taken a great deal of force to get the knives to stick into the surface. Cavan was beginning to have doubts that this guy was any ordinary killer. There had to be something significant about him. Maybe he was one of those 'strange things' that he'd read about.
A small bubble of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth, there was a small pocket of air that exploded, sending tiny spatters across her cheek. Cavan bent low and heard her death rattle. She was so close to the end, and yet still hanging on for whatever reason. Did she think that her life would go on as it had before when the two of them left? Did she imagine that she would take some time - some months, maybe - to heal, and then it would all be nothing more than a bad memory?
Cavan turned, found a stray knife and finished her off. Not from any kindness. He would have enjoyed sitting and listening to her suffering on any other occasion, but today, the shaky intake of her lungs was barring the way of further and deeper conversation. A distraction. Cavan had found a new companion. Something better than Molly, somebody he didn't have to hide from. Should he have been a normal boy, he might have said potential friend. But he didn't imagine this man was any more interested in friends than he was.
Ally perhaps? Compatriot?
He couldn't really know.
The thick blade of the carving knife slid deep into the waitress' eye, through the thin plate of skull and into her brain. She was silent immediately. He took a moment to envy that the man who had started this probably would have been able to force the blade through the back and into the countertop. Something he was not strong enough for.
"Should it?" He looked at the blood on his hands, felt the usual stirrings. It was a little strange getting this feeling when it was all over, instead of during it. He felt cheated. Like he needed more.