Partners in Crime [TP and CG]

[Tamissa Pines]

Why the fuck do they care so much about granola bars? Carla scowled to herself as she shoved the box into the patched up messenger bag that hung at her up, glancing over her shoulder at the pursuing security guards. Why did such a little gas station have security guards? She'd grabbed a single box of granola bars, which she was certain she needed more than anyone who could actually pay for it, and they'd been on her in seconds, which was strange. Normally gas stations were pretty poorly guarded, so it was easy to slip in, grab something small, and flee again, but not this particular gas station. Maybe it was because it was in the part of town where robberies were common? She supposed she should have taken that into account before she tried anything, but she'd been a little off her game lately, though she couldn't explain why. She'd had too many close calls too close together, and it didn't make sense. Normally, she was stealthy as could be, but for the past few weeks, she'd been tripping up time and time again. She needed to get her act together.


Fortunately for her, her life style led to her having a very high endurance, so she was sure she could out run them if she tried hard enough. She'd escaped cops and other malicious pursuers time and time again in the past, so she didn't doubt that she could do so again now. Besides, if she was being honest, the security guards currently chasing her were not quite up to par with what she was used to facing. She rounded a corner, and skidded to a stop less than a foot away from plowing into a man who was almost twice her size. She was just about to apologize quickly and keep running, when she looked up at his face and paused, blinking a few times in surprise. She knew those eyes. She'd only spent years trying her best to pick out the shards of suffering that lingered in his crystal irises, after all. It had been years since she'd seen him, and he'd aged, of course, like anyone would have, but his eyes had stayed the same. There were still fragments of pain and slivers of torment lingering, even with all she'd done to rid him of them.


"...Atticus?" she asked uncertainly, hesitating just a moment before speaking. This seemed strange. What were the odds that she'd run into him on the street after all these years of separation, after all the towns she'd skipped and all the miles she'd traveled away from home? A shout rang out from behind her and she bristled, looking over her shoulder and cursing under her breath. It was the worst possible time for a reunion, which was unfortunate, since she'd enjoy a moment to chat with her old friend. A similar bellow echoed through the air, but from the other direction, and her mind put together the pieces in a split second. They were running, albeit from different people, and they couldn't stop here. Acting on impulse, she quickly looked around before grabbing his arm. "Follow me!" she urged quietly, tugging him into a nearby alleyway. Moving fast, she lifted the lid of a large dumpster and peeked in, thanking every god from Buddha to Zeus (despite not believing in a single one of them) that it was empty. "In here!" she hissed, interlocking her fingers to boost him into the dumpster. After she had gotten him inside, she jumped up herself, climbing in and softly closing the lid to prevent their pursuers hearing them and figuring out their hiding spot. She sat silently, tense and waiting, as footsteps approached, two sets of voices chatting in muffled tones before splitting in different directions. After a minute or two of silence had passed, she let out a breath of relief, standing and pushing the lid of the dumpster back up, climbing out and dropping to the ground, looking around to make sure the coast was clear.

 

[chromogalactic]

It wasn't as if he needed anything major, just a few rolls of gauze and a bottle of water, but being his usual arrogant self, he hadn't anticipated the security this small shop would have. It was a gas station for god's sake, not a jewelry store. Who honestly cared about some cheaply made fast food and cans of energy drinks? Then again, there was probably quite a few people like himself in this part of town.


Atticus usually carried around a small backpack and he hadn't removed it at the door as he was supposed to. That was the first mistake. After slipping the gauze inside one of the pouches, a guard glanced over and frowned thoughtfully. As nonchalantly as humanly possible, Atticus strolled past the guard. That was the second mistake. In an instant, the unfortunately overweight guard shouted, ordering him to come there. Refusing, of course, he began weaving his way around the store and toward the door, picking up his pace when a small woman nearly collided with him. Frowning, he looked down.


She seemed rushed and somewhat panicked, and as he flicked his gaze behind her momentarily, he understood why. Atticus let his eyes drift back down to hers, and realization suddenly struck him as she muttered his name. His eyes widened and he was short of breath. Carla. It had to be her. She had the same pretty face, same unruly hair, same... Everything. He opened his mouth to speak, when she quickly grabbed his arm and ordered he follow her. Too numb to think otherwise, he complied.


After they were both secured in the dumpster, he let his emotions invade his thinking. Part of him wanted to scoop her up in his arms and protect her from whatever demons she was fleeing from. Part of him wanted to apologize for leaving her and for never coming back to her. But the rational side had realized she had exited the dumpster.


With a sigh, he dropped to the ground beside her and continued to stare down at her. She looked older, naturally, but with age comes beauty. A small smile tugged at the ends of his lips and he wasn't sure what to do first. Lamely, he murmured, "I'm not dreaming, am I?"

 

[Tamissa Pines]

Carla reached behind her head, tying her tangled hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. The dirty white scrunchie she used to hold it was a little outdated, but hey, it was serviceable, so that was all that mattered. She could think a lot more clearly when strands of matted hair weren't dangling in her vision, racking her mind for a good place that she could hide out for the night. Traveling by foot, she couldn't just drive out of town and sleep in her car, so she needed to find the cheapest possible motel to spend the night in.


At the sound of Atticus's voice, deeper but still familiar, she turned to face him, deciding to worry about what the night would bring later. For now, she had the opportunity to catch up with an old friend, a rare occurrence considering how few friends she'd had and how often she swapped towns. Besides, Atticus was more than just a friend. He was her best friend, the only person she'd ever dared to confide in, and even though the circumstances weren't the best, she was over the moon at an opportunity to talk to him again after the many years of separation. She smiled sweetly at the question, tugging her leather jacket a little tighter around herself before sliding her hands in her pockets and shaking her head lightly, allowing herself a small laugh.


"'fraid not," she replied with a grin, tilting her head as she looked up at the older boy - man, now, she supposed, "It's been a long time. Gotta be at least...wow, thirteen years, huh?" She hesitated for a moment, then gave into the impulse, stepping forward and weaving her arm's around Atticus's torso in a fond hug. (She would have wrapped them around his neck if she could reach.) "You got really tall," she mumbled into the fabric of his jacket, allowing the embrace to linger for a moment before she stepped back once more, tucking a loose curl into the ponytail.


"Though I guess you always were way taller than me," she admitted with a small chuckle, reaching to rub the back of her neck as she looked up at him. He was handsome, there was no denying that. He'd never been what she would call unattractive, but of course, they had only been children when they last saw each other. He'd matured since, and it was hard not to notice. She wasn't made of stone, after all. She was silent for a moment, debating whether or not what she wanted to say was acceptable, before deciding that she may as well voice what she felt.


"Not gonna lie, I've missed you," she told him, her grin becoming softer, "Been a long couple of years. I would ask how things have been, but considering the circumstances, I'm assuming they haven't been the best?" Just as she had all of those years ago, she understood his situation without having to ask, being in a pretty similar one herself.

 

[chromogalactic]

Atticus's smile grew slightly as she confirmed it was indeed not a dream. He was hoping it wasn't. "Yeah, thirteen years. That's a long-" he was cut short as Carla wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened, not used to the human contact. After a moment, he relaxed and rested his chin atop her head and returned the embrace. A small chuckle escaped him as she mentioned his height. "And you haven't grown a bit," he joked.


When she stepped back, he couldn't help but feel a bit sad. He enjoyed the hug. His expression went grave as she voiced her assumptions. Of course she was correct, she understood him better than anyone. With a sigh, Atticus ran his hand through his hair at looked passed her.


"You're right, they haven't," he mumbled dryly. "But I'm glad to see you." He added, allowing a bit of warmth back into his tone. He didn't need to ask about her own situation, he knew it very well.


"I have a room booked for the night at a little place a few miles from here if you'd like to... Umm,.. Unless you already had plans," he offered awkwardly. Was it weird of him to offer her to stay with him? He was just trying to help. Besides, the motel wasn't near the store they had just both tried to steal from, and they could use some relaxation time to catch up.

 

[Tamissa Pines]

Carla nodded understandingly at the response, letting out a puff of air. She'd known the answer she was going to get, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. Of course she wanted him to brush off the question, to smile and say everything was swell, to tell her that he'd gone on to be very successful and lead a happy life. It was only natural that she wanted that for someone she had cared about so deeply - still cared about so deeply. But that simply wasn't the case, and she'd known that the moment she looked up at him.


She didn't take her gaze off his face even as he turned his gaze away, watching him with a warm expression that had always been reserved just for him, considering she had no one else she was close enough with to offer it to. She was tempted to reach into the pocket of her jacket and grab herself a cigarette from the pack, but ignored the temptation for now, hating the fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to for very long. She despised her addiction, but it helped her to relax after a stressful day, and she was struggling to give it up despite her best efforts.


She blinked a few times at the offer, obviously surprised, before she smiled, some of the tension in her shoulders dissipating. "That would be great, actually," she told him with a breathy laugh, pulling her ponytail over her shoulder and running her fingers through the matted locks, finger combing it to the best of her ability, "I was just thinking about where I was gonna crash for the night." If it were anyone else, she would have said no in an instant. Like hell she would have slept anywhere in the vicinity of someone she wasn't sure she could trust, especially considering how many enemies she had, but Atticus was an exception.

 

[chromogalactic]

A slight smile once again spread across Atticus's face as she accepted his offer. It wasn't really a surprise, he assumed that she would, but it made him happy. At least a little bit, and that was rare for him.


The tall man glanced around and after deciding the security losers were long gone, he reached down and gently placed a hand on her arm. "I think we should get moving then. It'll take a while to walk there, and I'd rather not be out past dark," he exclaimed as he began to walk ahead.


It wouldn't take too terribly long to walk the few miles to the motel, but they would need to be careful. He assumed the guards would have contacted local police by now. They had their descriptions. He was very familiar with the drill, and not too concerned. If they played it out right, they'd get to the motel safely.


Atticus glanced down at Carla beside him and observed her. She looked healthy, which was good, but could perhaps use a shower - not that she looked it, he just knew the hardships of this sort of lifestyle. He was resisting the urge to brush back her hair and wrap an arm around her small shoulders as they walked.


He was reunited with his best friend. What more could he want at the moment? Perhaps karma was merciful after all.


Soon enough, they came upon the motel and Atticus removed a room key from his backpack pouch. "There it is. Let's hope word of us hasn't reached this far yet," he whispered before gesturing for her to go first, his inner gentleman taking over.

 

[Tamissa Pines]

Carla followed his gaze around the area, nodding her agreement at the comment about not wanting to be out after dark. As much as she enjoyed the night, the dark blanket of nighttime was also when she was most vulnerable. In broad daylight, people weren't nearly as daring, but under the silver light of the moon, people could be a lot more cruel, and with the vast number of blacklists she was on, she generally tried to make sure she had somewhere at least somewhat secure to hide by nightfall.


She followed him when he began down the street, taking a deep breath and slipping her hands back into her pockets. They walked in silence, but it wasn't tense or awkward. It was a comfortable silence, one that Carla wasn't quite adjusted to. Her life was full of noise, full of sirens and shouting and gunfire, so the silence, although foreign, was welcomed.


Carla rolled back her shoulders and glanced up at the sky, taking note of the pink tint near the horizon, a sign of the setting sun. Hopefully they'd get there in time. Though night didn't bring any immediate threats, it made the possibility of one surfacing far more likely. She was pretty far from the last time where she'd stirred up serious trouble, so she could logically assume she was okay, but logic didn't soothe her paranoia. Nothing really did anymore.


She looked up at the motel as they arrive, not very surprised by the state of it. It looked like any other shitty motel she'd stayed in, but the sight of it still brought her comfort. Shelter for another night. She smiled as he gestured forward, offering a small nod of acknowledgement. "Thank you, good sir," she said lightly, offering a bright smile (rare these days) as she walked past him.

 

[chromogalactic]

Atticus shook his head in good natured amusement and followed the smaller girl inside. He stepped beside her and nodded to the clerk behind the counter, who was far too busy playing some sort of game on his phone to notice. This caused Atticus to role his eyes. Men.


It wasn't a large complex, so finding his room was relatively easy. Earlier he had only checked in before leaving to go to the gas station where he so conveniently stumbled upon Carla. He swipes his room key on the handle and pushes the door open. "Ta-da!" He announced.


There wasn't much to "ta-da" about. There was a bed - which didn't look the tidiest - and a small bathroom off to the left. In front of the bed was a small tv, a desk, and a coffee pot. It was livable for a night.


Atticus immediately moved to grab a blanket off of the bed and placed it on the floor beside it. He then snatched a pillow up and placed it on top of said blanket. "You're my guest, you get the bed," he instructed, not willing to take no for an answer. "Sorry it isn't that luxurious, it's all I could afford. I was planning on hopping on a semi out of here tomorrow, so I wasn't gonna stay in here long." He exclaimed. Though, now that Carla was here, he may have to change his plans. Not that he was complaining.


After removing his backpack, he turned his back to her and placed the bag on the desk. He removed the gauze he successfully stole and began to methodically wrap up one of his hands. He wasn't sure if she had noticed, but he had been favoring his right hand. The other night, he got in a bar fight with a stocky man who grabbed a woman's ass unceremoniously. This, of course, angered Atticus, and it resulted in a fist fight. It was close, but he came out on top. Although, he's pretty sure he broke a finger and his knuckles are definitely bloodied and cut up. Atticus winced as he finished wrapping the hand, flexing his back to distract him from the pain.

 

[Tamissa Pines]

As they entered the motel room, Carla slowly rotated, taking in the small space. It was definitely better than hiding out in a park for the night, as she'd had to do a fair few times in the past. The sense of vulnerability was one of the worst things she'd ever felt, and though she wished she could confidently say that she'd never have to experience it again, she knew that wasn't the truth. She didn't doubt that there would be times in the future, probably a lot of them, that she'd find herself without a roof over her head. She dreaded those times, but no matter how much she despaired over them, the likelihood of it happening wouldn't decrease.


She watched as he tugged one of the blankets off the bed, dropping it on the ground and tossing a pillow down beside it. She opened her mouth to protest - after all, he had paid for the room, so he should have the bed - but at the look he sent her, she knew she wouldn't make any progress by trying to argue, so she submitted to his decision with a sigh. "Thank you again," she said sincerely, tightening her ponytail, "I really appreciate you letting me stay here." She shrugged the leather jacket off of her shoulders, arms bruised and covered in the cheapest band aids she could find, which had happened to be Disney themed ones.


"Hey, this one's got a working heater - that's a serious step up from the last one I bunked in," she pointed out with a grin, folding her jacket over her arm. She watched, head tilted slightly, as he pulled a gauze out of his bag and began to wrap his hand. She hadn't taken much notice before, focused on ensuring that they weren't caught and then on the reunion herself, but his hand was pretty banged up. She flinched when he did, as if the pain was her own, and slowly lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bed. "I see not much has changed," she commented softly, a hint of fondness mixed into the concern in her tone, "What happened?"

 

[chromogalactic]

After taking a deep breath, Atticus turned at the sound of her voice. He grinned slightly at her comment about the heater. Unfortunately, he knew all too well what it was like not having the simple luxury of warmth. He took a quick stride and sat beside Carla on the bed. He was about to open his mouth to reply, when he caught sight of the bandages and bruises on her skin.


Gingerly, he trailed along her upper arm with a finger on his left hand, frowning deeply. "I have some BandAids in my backpack," he whispered gently, moving his gaze to meet hers. The bruises were a familiar sight, as sad as that was. He felt an empathetic tug on his heart.


Not waiting for her to say anything in response, he quickly rose and unzipped his bag , pulling out a box of BandAids. He returned to her side and pulled out a few standard sized bandages. "I'll let you do this yourself. Unles you'd like me to-" he offered.

 

[Tamissa Pines]

Carla waited patiently for an answer, smiling as he took a seat beside her, before watching the smile on his face falter. She blinked once or twice, confused by his sudden shift in mood, before following his gaze to the purple patches on her tanned skin. What could she say? Her lifestyle was a rough one, it was only natural that she got a little bruised from time to time.


She gave a tiny shrug as he traced the bruises on her arm, offering what she hoped was a reassuring grin. "They're nothing to worry about, Atticus, really," she assured him, leaning back on her hands, "I'm a tough girl, you know that." She briefly considered turning down the offer of band aids, but he was already on his feet and rummaging through his back.


"I think I got it, but thanks," she told him with a small smile, accepting the band aids, "It's kinda funny how you said that this place isn't luxurious, but I mean, a bed and band aids? Seems pretty luxurious to me." Was it a little sad that such humble things were now the definition of luxury to her? Sure, but she was simply trying to get how much all these little things meant to her across.

 

[chromogalactic]

Atticus nodded and set aside the box. She was a tough girl, he knew this. He had always known this, but it doesn't mean he didn't worry about her. Before the random chance of him running into her at the shop earlier, he had nothing but two fists and an ego as large as the country he lived in. So at the moment she was quite literally all he had.


He shrugged at her last comment. She had a point, it was nice. He had definitely seen much, much worse. But it pained him to admit that he felt undignified bouncing around from place to place. He felt he deserved better, but most importantly, he knew Carla deserved better.


"Consider it my thanks for all those years ago," he remarked with a gentle smile. After a few drawn out moments, Atticus stood once again and deposited the BandAids on the desk and removed a pair of sweatpants from his backpack. Along with the pants, he pulled out a soft t shirt and placed it on the bed just in case she didn't have other clothes to sleep in.


"If you'd like to shower, I can go see what kind of food they've got going on downstairs." He said as he stared at her expectantly. He felt it was now his obligation to take care of her, and that's what he planned on doing.

 

[Tamissa Pines]

Carla offered a smile at the response, although she personally didn't believe any thanks was necessary. The day they'd met, tiny second grade Carla had marched straight up to his otherwise empty lunch table with fearlessness that startled their peers, considering that she seemed so timid to the rest of them and it therefore seemed wildly uncharacteristic for her to walk up to one of the scariest kids in school without hesitation, sat down, and started to eat. The first few times she did so, they didn't even talk. It was only after she had been eating lunch with him for a week that she introduced herself and they began to converse, becoming fast friends despite their seemingly vast amount of differences.


She sat in silence for a moment, watching as he pulled a pair of sweatpants and a large t-shirt out of his bag, laying them on the bed beside her before turning to face her. She looked up at him, listening to him speak, and hesitated a moment before getting to her feet and hugging him once more. Acting on impulse, she pressed a brief kiss to his cheek before pulling back and picking the clothes up off the bed. (She didn't have to ask to know they were laid out for her.) "Thanks again, Atticus. Seriously, this means a lot to me," she told him sincerely before heading into the small bathroom located almost directly across from the bed.


After a brief shower that admittedly left her feeling very rejuvenated and just overall better than she had earlier that day, she climbed back out and dried herself off. She took a moment to dry her curls to the best of her ability, though she knew that despite her best efforts, they would remain slightly damp for the next hour or so. She pulled on the clothes she had been given, which, just like she had suspected, were multiple sizes too big. She tied the drawstrings of the sweatpants as tight as she could and knotted the shirt at her waist so it was about as long on her as a regular shirt, but rather baggy, then stepped back out into the room, savoring the warmth that greeted her.

 

[chromogalactic]

Atticus was about to move toward the door when she stood, wrapping her arms around him and pecking his cheek. He was so startled he hardly had time to react before she stepped back and accepted the clothing he had layed out for her. A stupid smile lit up his features, causing him to cough and turn his head so as not to look like too much of an idiot.


Once recovered, he turned to face Carla again as she spoke. "Really, it's no bother," he replied. As she headed for the bathroom, he headed for the door.


Luckily, the food wasn't too expensive. Atticus managed to scrounge up a few dollars from his pocket to pay for a six inch sandwhich and a small bag of chips. The water bottles he found were free, so in all, it was a nice little meal. Nice as far as his standards went.


When he managed to get back to their room, Carla had just stepped into the room. His sweats and shirt were rather large on her, but he found it utterly adorable. With yet another stupid grin and the shake of his head, Atticus placed the food on the desk and admired his old time friend.


"Typically, I'm not a big fan of baggy clothing on women, but you make it work." He smirked as jokingly looked her up in down. He was planning on showering in the morning because of his looming hunger and oncoming exhaustion.


Atticus wriggled his eyebrows and casually threw off his own shirt, conveniently forgetting that he wasn't alone tonight. That's how he always slept, it was an honest mistake. He turned away from her and divided up the sandwhich and the chips on two paper plates he found in a cabinet below the desk. He then carried one to Carla and placed a water bottle beside her. "Eat up."

 

[Tamissa Pines]

Carla hummed to herself as she exited the bathroom, tying her hair back into a frizzy bun to keep it out of her face. Probably not the wisest idea, considering it would cause it to retain some of the water from the shower, but she honestly couldn't care less. What mattered was that it kept her damp hair out of her face, and therefore out of mind. Her curls, as much as she loved them, were annoying as all hell.


More than once she'd considered just chopping them off, but she never had. It wasn't as though she hadn't had the opportunity. In the multiple times she'd laid awake next to a sleeping man she'd seduced only to rob him blind (not her proudest moments, but whatever) she could have easily climbed out of bed, gone into the bathroom, and chopped all her hair off. However, having the man awaken to find hair littering his sink and his wallet emptied seemed especially mean. Or maybe she was just looking for a reason not to cut off her extremely inconvenient hair.


She looked over when the door opened, turning away from the slightly grimy mirror positioned above the desk. At the comment, she fought off a blush and instead grinned, striking a playful pose. "Ah, I know," she replied with a small laugh, "I pull it off wonderfully, don't you think?" Something about the situation pulled a memory out of the back of her mind, an image of her nine year old self, shivering in her little blue dress after a school performance, and having Atticus shrug off his own sweatshirt, much too large for her tiny frame, and toss it over her head. She remembered beaming as she pulled it on, warmth immediately flooding her. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure she ever gave it back. Oops.


Carla blinked in surprise, drawn out of her thoughts, at Atticus's sudden movement. She was unable to fend off the heat that rose to her cheeks as he peeled off his shirt, but remained casual, not so much as commenting on the fact that, in most situations, that would not be acceptable. She accepted the food with a grateful grin, not taking the time to verbalize her gratefulness due to how long it had been since she'd eaten last. She took a bite of the sandwich and nearly groaned at the flavor. "God, a sandwich has never tasted so good."

 

[chromogalactic]

The joy that was in her voice as she bit into the sandwich resulted in a large grin from Atticus. He moved around to the side and sat on the bed, sitting upright and leaning against a pillow. He began devouring the food, forgetting his manners. If he were to be honest it had been nearly two weeks since he had a normal meal such as this, and the sight of it was making his stomach growl loudly.


It didn't take long for the sandwich to be gone. Atticus's gaze wandered back over to Carla as he picked at his chips. Hmm, barbecue. He felt at peace for once. He had a roof over his head, at least for the night. He had food on his plate, and his best friend was back in his care. The fact that he could provide her with these simple things made him immensely thrilled.


Atticus realized he was staring, so he quickly shook his head and finished off the chips. After setting the paper plate on the nightstand, an idea formed in his mind. "If I may ask, what were you planning on doing after stealing from that gas station? Did you have a destination?" He inquired, one eyebrow raised, deep blue eyes wide.


He knew that he himself didn't really have a set destination. He was floating around, picking fights, living off of whatever he could find. Fights... That reminded him. Atticus glanced down at his limp right hand which lay on his abdomen. He wasn't so sure he'd be doing any fighting anytime soon. Come to think of it, hadn't Carla asked about his hand?


"It was a man disrespecting a woman. Not a huge deal, I just got banged up," he commented softly. She didn't need to worry about him, this wasn't the first time he had broken something. Though, it did hurt pretty bad.

 

[Tamissa Pines]

Carla happily munched on the sandwich, over the moon to have an actual meal in front of her. Normally, it was just bits and pieces scattered over the course of a week or so. She did her best to savor it, but it was only a maximum of two minutes before the sandwich was gone, at which point she opened her bag of chips and started in on them.


This was nice. She'd spent so long on the run, doing things she'd care not mention and avoiding the authorities to the best of her ability. She had been caught once or twice, but had always managed to escape before they got her to anywhere too high security. They always underestimated her, a scrawny woman in dirty clothes. Poor decision.


She raised her gaze at the question, blinking a few times before giving a small nervous laugh. "None in particular," she replied with another tiny giggle, "I was basically gonna milk as much from this town as I could then head to the next one over. There's never really a specific destination, I guess. Just gotta keep moving, you know?"


Carla followed his gaze to his hand, remembering that she'd questioned its state earlier. She hadn't gotten an answer, had she? Fortunately, she got one now, looking back up to meet Atticus's eyes as he explained the need for the bandage and the situation that surrounded how he'd injured his hand. She couldn't say she was surprised.


"Still a knight in shining armor," she teased fondly, popping another chip into her mouth, "That hasn't changed either, hm?" She crumpled up the empty chip bag and set it on the nightstand, content and unwilling to move from her spot on the bed.

 

[chromogalactic]

Atticus shook his head and chuckled lowly. With a glance at the nearby clock, he determined it was about time to get some rest. He rolled off of the bed and placed a delicate hand on Carla's shoulder. "Let's get some rest. Long day ahead of us,"


With that, he double checked the door to make sure it was locked - just a habit. His makeshift bed was better than sleeping on a park bench or in the bed of a pickup, so he was more than happy to sleep on it. Stretching, he lie down and placed his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. The blanket he grabbed was pulled up to his mid-abdomen; he liked sleeping somewhat chilled.


His thoughts began to whirl, as they always did at night. His main concern had been to survive, but now... priorities changed. He wouldn't let her go out on her own anymore. Atticus had decided that he would take care of her from now on, whether she liked it or not.


A siren sounded outside. Atticus jumped up, eyes wide. Thankfully he could see out the window at this angle, and concluded the flashing lights weren't for them. Breathing a heavy breath of relief, he lay back down. "A life of crime makes you weary, I suppose." He mumbled, more to himself than anyone.