Looking over at Blake, Roger shook his head, but said nothing. Thank God I didn't wanna live today, he thought to himself. Still, what was the worst that could happen, they crash? Roger knew how to restart a heart, and if he himself died, well, it'd been a good run. Everyone died eventually. Except vampires, fucking creepy bastards.
Taking the bottle from Blake, he blew a perfectly round bubble in response, popping it deftly. Roger rolled down his window, spitting his gum out and hoping it hit the car behind them. That would've been funny as fuck, a big wad of pink gum stuck to some idiot's windshield. "I grew up around rednecks," Roger said, taking a swig. "Such a pathetic place. Thank God I got outta there, even if it was to end up in this nuthouse."
The city was approaching, and with it came the possibilities for the night. "Okay, find us a place," he requested. He didn't care where, so long as it was wild.