Jason doesn't struggle as I remove the cigar from his mouth.
"Why are you still so mad? Is it because I stopped you?"
Jason clenches his teeth so hard, his jaw muscles contract.
He hadn't removed his hands from the steering wheel, if it was human, Jason would have choked the life out of it. I pry his fingers off while avoiding the bits of torn flesh sticking out of his injured knuckles.
"He's not dead, is he?" His voice comes out raspy.
Is that why he's mad?
"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have interfered–"
"Thank you"
"Huh?"
"Toss the cigar out"
"How do I put it out?"
Jason grabs the cigar and presses it to the wall of the glove compartment, then he tosses it out through my window.
"We need to dress your wounds, but first a clothing store"
Jason doesn't ask why. We stop outside a thrift store.
"What here"
"There's no way I'm going in with you"
I roll my eyes and head in.
The place is dimly lit and I struggle to adjust to the darkness.
