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02 smells like teen spirit
Illusion kicks their legs up on the dashboard of Mercy's old Chevrolet as she grips the steering wheel. Henrietta passes by in a blur; flashes of green against the blue of the skyline. The summer sun is high, perched above her head, the heat only growing as the day crawls forward. Heat waves against the tarmac, Mercy tightens her grip and leans forward, vehemently hitting play on her music. It hadn't been hard for her form an upgraded music system the moment the rundown truck's keys had landed within her palms and she'd squeezed them so tightly that the teeth imprinted into her skin.
Mouth pulled into a cocky grin, Illusion looks over to Mercy, chin tipped up to the sky in casual arrogance. "Didn't we have this discussion yesterday?" Their voice begins to meld into the sound system. "That won't work."
"Shut the fuck up," Mercy says. She grits her teeth, pressing gnawing bone against bone. Eyes flashing, her gaze shifts to face Illusion's as they come to a stop at a red sign. "Get the fuck out of my sound system. Does the sound of your own voice like get you off or something?"
Illusion's fangs bare themselves, they snarl. Mercy grips the steering wheel harder. Neon letters cause Illusion's gaze to shift. In a vain pink and a bright acid yellow, the words read: Nino's Pizza.
They point with a crooked finger. "There. Stop there."
It's almost mindless, controlled, the way Mercy immediately flicks the indicator and pulls into the Nino's parking lot without realising. Her pickup slides smoothly into a free space. Before she can turn to Illusion to question as why they wanted her to pull into the carpark of the town's shitty diner, they're gone. Mercy's hand comes to rest on her chest, pressing against the space between her collarbones. She breathes in deeply, biting her already red-bitten bottom lip and shoves open the door, stepping out into the sunlight. Her hands twitch, itching for the weight of a cigarette.
