In-person: Amy M/Si M
Si drove. In another peel out, he made a narrow-tine'd u-turn and sped the fuck out of that. The headlights blazed over the well-kept road, skimming flawless asphalt. Si glanced over as he rolled through a stop sign. "I hate this fucking town," he told her, voice sleep-and-smoke-rough. His cigarette was long gone, buried in the ashtray graveyard, its soul lingering in the form of hanging smoke. If she let him, he reached for her hand to hold it in his. His grip was clammy, but he laced his fingers through hers. God, he was fucking scared. "Stupid fucking town."