Louis slid unceremoniously into the back of the car, and the second he got the clean towel wrapped around himself he dropped the blanket on the ground and shut the door. He was relieved to see it go, all the more relieved to be in a quiet, private place. This worn truck cabin felt safe and close, and he braced his bare, dirty soles against the back of the wheel well. He didn't care that there was no seatbelt, or that the seat was sticky and taped together. He didn't need a Jaguar, right now. He just needed to feel like he was going somewhere far from here, and that he'd never need to look at that nightclub sign again. It made him feel sick. Even the music on the radio, something he never would have ordinarily listened to, provided enough contrast of regular reality that he relished it.
"I'll be fine," he said, a little more thinly now that he was sitting down. He wasn't going to break down, no - he wouldn't allow himself that. But when Russ asked him whether he needed to stop and get clothes, he stared through the windshield a few beats too long. He was thinking about where he would go now. He couldn't go to the police, of course. He was a known mafioso. He could send their own forces to hunt down the people responsible, but how could they find someone he didn't even remember?
He realized that Russ had asked him a question, blinked, and started to shake his head. He wanted to see his sister, and be somewhere other people were, so his instinctive reaction was to go straight there. Then he remembered his complete lack of clothes and stopped. "Clothes...would be nice, thank you." He couldn't show up at Sam's looking like this. She surely already thought he was a mess, a failure for getting grabbed by someone. And the thought of getting his clothes back added another layer of calming security, even thinking about it. Yes, if he was dressed he would feel more put to rights, less vulnerable. It was the thing to do.
He was alert enough, his eyes darting across buildings as they drove, so he likely wasn't in shock. But he didn't move to wipe the markings from his chest. He didn't touch them, or even seem to remember they were there.