A laugh spills from her lips at his words, too loud, too happy to be natural, to be anything but crafted from the drugs running through her veins. Sheâs far too high to be angry with the boy right now, far too scared to let herself feel anything real. So she chooses this, this false euphoria, the mixture of narcotics and liquor burning through her veins, chooses lies over reality, an escape into the abyss. âThat is an awfully hard choice,â she comments, stepping back into the street, away from the boy, but keeping her eyes locked with his. âPerhaps I can help you out with it.â But before she can do whatever she intended with those words, a car honks loudly as it swerves out of her way, causing her to stumble forward, another laugh leaving her lips.
Her laugh is annoying -- and but unlike something heâs heard from her before; though her laughs are usually of the sarcastic variety which only leads him to believe that sheâs so drunk that she doesnât even realize who sheâs talking to. He watches her step back away from him -- he prefers it, itâs bad enough heâs publicly acknowledging her, even if itâs late outside with very little eye witnesses. Watching her walk into the path of a car, only to have it swerve around her just in time ignites a panic within him --  a similar one he had when Asia had overdosed in his presence. âRoad kill?â He suggest loudly, ââCause youâre sure as hell gonnaâ become one if you donât get off the road, and Iâm not going to stand around and be a witness.â
