It had been at least an hour since The8 had spoken and you had spent it stiff shouldered, looking out the window at the passing scenery. You had given up on trying to figure out where you were going after passing the city limits. You could have asked the weasel but even he seemed to be in his own head. Quickly glancing his way you saw him the most relaxed he had been all day. He had his head back again, face tilted towards the cab’s beige ceiling. He wasn’t sleeping, unless he slept with his eyes open. A possibility you supposed but not likely. He was eccentric, cliched even, but not that weird. You didn’t think.

    Though with the amount of time he’d been silent, you would have assumed he had drifted off. It was for that reason you left him alone. Despite you not particularly liking him, he’d obviously been through a lot of stress for at least the past couple of days and it seemed like he could use some semblance of peace. You were still pissed at the idea that he was the reason you were also on the run, but then again it’s not like you weren’t at least partially to blame. What did you expect to happen in your line of work? Easy old retirement? No, more likely caught and thrown in jail, or fired and evicted-- if you weren’t caught and killed.

    The third option had always seemed like the least likely in your mind. But now you were living it. You were on the run from someone who wasn’t afraid to shoot a gun through a door at an unknown inhabitant. They sure wouldn’t be afraid to shoot at a small time thief. You might have been stupid for accepting a job from the grease weasel in the beginning, but you were almost sure following him away from the danger was the smart decision this time. Maybe. You were never really sure when it came to any decision involving him. Except the one dictating your general distrust for the man.

    You may have come from a small town but you knew when you were being taken advantage of-- gimmicked. This man, from the beginning, you knew was in it for himself. You were a tad naive in expecting fair play, but you had always been weary of his intentions. Though was there anyone who worked in conjunction with the mafias that had innocent motives? No, and if there was, your employer was not one of them. Selfish: he always had been. So why did he bring you along. Why make the stop at your house? 

    You eyed your duffel bag stuffed at the bottom of the cab encroaching on your foot space. Shifting your gaze over slightly you noticed the informants sneaker clad feet. They were white, or had been. They were more grey now than anything. How often had he ran in them? What for? The only shoes you’d ever seen him in were brown loafers. He’d always pretended to be too upscale for anything else.

    You also noticed his lack of any type of luggage. Had he already sent his things to where you were heading now? What, he didn’t want to ruin his nice leather handbag? No, that was taking it a bit far even for his level of arrogance. If he knew he was going to be pursued, he would have skipped town earlier, not sent his bag before him. So he must not have had that much time to plan. Did he actually leave in such a hurry he didn’t pack himself a bag? It should have only taken him a few minutes to pack a few clothes. He would have been hard pressed for time to neglect something so essential. But not so much as to give you a ten minute warning?

    ‘Hell, I’m gonna give myself a headach