The figure on the road, a man who was reasonably well-dressed if it wasn't for that missing shoe, had mismatched eyes and was holding a sleek black cat in his arms. Upon closer inspection, there was a collar around his neck with a leash clamped tight in the cat's teeth. The sudden jerk of the wheel to swerve around the alleged hitchhiker sent Sasha sprawling across bench seat into her chauffeur, but she cackled wildly instead of any shocked gasp. An unknown shift in direction could be just as thrilling as an amusement park ride and it made her forget all about her search for a gun.
The tangle of limbs kicked around like a turtle on her back until she could actually grab hold of the headrest to pull herself off of her companion. "They're with the shadows, too," she explained to the driver, paranoia replaced with almost lucid familiarity, "Keep going." No guilt at leaving the two in billowing stardust behind the car. None. She'd tell herself that for as long as it took her to believe it. Or she'd just figure out another way to drown those emotions. Cue the briefcase by her feet.
The briefcase was pulled into her lap, laid across thighs decked in ratty snagged fishnets. The unlit cigarette bounced up and down in the holder seemingly glued to her teeth as she spoke, "What's your poison, superstar?" The case she opened exposed a rainbow of illicit pharmaceuticals for every mood, an offer to the man driving her through the desert. She trusted him enough to drive, didn't she? So why wouldn't she trust him with this? Even if she had no idea who the man was. Was that strange? ...Nah. He had a hat. Official and all.
Never mind that missile streaking across the saturated blue sky, racing the speeding Eldorado to their destination.