“Are we there yet?”
“I will ram this car into a pole, I swear to god!”
“Awww, someone is grumpy,” Black said, unbuckling his seat belt and climbing over into the front seat.
“Black!” Cyrus yelled.
“I’ll be quick. I want some snacks.”
“I don’t have any snacks. Sit your ass down.”
“I put them in the glove compartment, duh,” Black said, continuing to climb over. Small as he was, he still jostled Cyrus, making them swerve around on the road.
“Black!”
“There’s no traffic. Don’t get your panties in a twist—ah!” He ended up face down in the passenger side footwell. “I’m okay! Oh, look, my best sparkly pen! I wondered where that went. I already held a funeral for it.”
“I should retire,” Cyrus grumbled to himself, running a hand over his face. “It might be forty years early but I’m sure they’ll understand. I’ve fucking earned it.”
“RISE FROM THE DEAD!” Black yelled, brandishing his pen as he righted himself, blond curls messy with static and crop top completely askew.
Cyrus stared at him for a moment. Two.
“Put your fucking seat belt on.”
Black grinned, seating himself and doing as he was told. He popped the glove compartment and a thousand snacks poured out.
Cyrus’s eye twitched.
“Want something?” Black asked Wren over his shoulder.
“Is the extermination of the human race in there?” Wren asked, pretending to be interested.
“Nope,” Black said, popping the P.
Wren hummed and shrugged. “Then, no. Thank you.”
The car filled with rustling and crunching, and Black making comments to Cyrus, who mostly grunted in return.
Wren tuned them out, instead glaring out the window for the rest of the trip, watching as greenery gave way to industry.
They passed factories, then office buildings. Above them, the train clattered along, blowing out plumes of steam and rattling the ginormous metal struts that kept it suspended.
“Thank all that is holy and right, there’s the station,” Cyrus almost whimpered an indeterminate amount of time later.
Wren’s stomach squirmed with dread as he brought his gaze down to fix on it.
It wasn’t exactly a pretty building, but it nestled into Slatehollow perfectly, squat and gray but sprawling over an entire block. The tallest part of it was the parking structure that was attached to the courtyard out front, closed in by concrete walls and two iron gates that opened regularly to allow police cars to move in and out.
Here was the highest concentration of cars you would be able to find in Slatehollow.
Cyrus pulled in, flashing his badge to the scanner and then proceeding into the parking structure. He went up a few floors before parking in his designated spot and almost flying from the confines of the car.
“Where’s the fire?” Black asked obliviously. “Ash isn’t here.”
“Har har,” Cyrus grumbled. “Get out. And bring your wrappers and crumbs with you.”
“So bossy.”
