'What do you think happens after you die?'
'I don't want to say... Don't look at me like that! I know I have an answer for everything but that's just one of those questions.' A shrug, 'I don't want to commit myself to anything, just in case.'
'You superstitious?'
'No. Just cautious...' A sideways glance and a sip from a glass, 'What about you? It's customary when asking a question to know the answer.'
'Oh...' A raised eyebrow, 'Well,' Leaning back in his seat, 'Wherever it is, I hope it's nice.'
'See! Now that's non-commital. You're just claiming there is somewhere to go.' A quick shudder runs through her, 'I just got a tingle in my leg.' She giggles.
'You alright! Nothing to do with him?' A quick and almost panicked reply, a sideways glance.
'Nah, I'm fine, just a chill.' A slight smile, 'Don't worry about him, he won't be causing any more trouble.'

'Why is there nothing ever on the television?' Sprawled out on a large black leather sofa, a dark haired man his hands clawing the firm corners, feet lolling on the coffee table in front of him, asked a blonde female pottering around the kitchen area behind him.
'You used to be so judgemental when I watched the television.' Grabbing two glasses from the cupboard near her head, making a mock expression of shock, 'You can't do that! It's wrong, don't do that! You-'
'I didn't!'
'You'll get square eyes!' Followed by a loud squawking unforgiving laugh.
'I didn't say that!' He snapped, angrily stabbing at the remote control with his fingers.
'Uh huh... Yeah. No wine either... let's drink the beer from the fridge!'
'Nothing on the television!' A shout of triumph, 'Not one fucking thing!'
'Congratulations, now will you please shut up! The neighbours might hear and they could probably guess this guy doesn't have many friends.' Padding over to the sofa in a tank top and underpants.
'How can you tell?' As she slouches down next to him supplying him with a can and a glass, 'Wouldn't it be easier-'
'Are you fucking kidding me?' Pouring beer from her can noisily into a glass, 'This place screams antisocial bachelor pad.' Taking a sip she sighs sinking into the sofa.
'Can't I just drink it from the can?' Looking at her with pleading glimmering dark eyes.
'No.' Her own pale blue eyes flashing malevolently. 'You gave me the option to refuse you. I say, no.' At this moment they stared at each other for a few prolonged seconds neither willing to drop their gaze.
'Fuck it! I'm drinking from the can.' Putting the glass on the flickering reflection of the television on the glass coffee table.
'Atta boy, standing up for yourself!' Nudging him playfully in the arm knocking his beer can off balance. 'Careful, don't want to stain this couch, it feels expensive... Cushy though.' Her partner nodded at her with a derisive curl in his lip.
The pair sat in comfortable silence watching the flickering television sipping their beer. As they had broken into the apartment and were clearly squatting while the young prosperous businessman who inhabited it was away on a 'business trip', it was only fair that they drank his beer and tried their best not to stain his couch.

He told her it was a bad idea, he always did when they were on the run.
They were always on the run.
Her reasoning was they needed somewhere to stay so why not in a luxury apartment stealing alcohol and cable off a total bastard.
'Karma.' She'd say, 'You're a jackass in life, little fairies come along and make your life a little less comfortable than it should be.'
He pointed out that she didn't know he was such a waste until she had already broken into his apartment slept in his bed and ate the contents of his fridge; then in the morning she had rifled through his belongings and listened to his phone messages discovering he was a total jackass. 'So then I didn't have to feel bad!'
She'd told him where deserving people's homes were and where they could hide and sleep for lengths of time instead of becoming familiar with motels, bed and breakfasts and posh hotels. Staff in those places start to recognise people who make regular visits, 'This way is also cheaper.' She claimed. He reluctantly agreed to this method and decided if they were to stay in in other people's homes he would not watch their television, eat their food or make a mess in any way shape or form; mostly through guilt. This promise relaxed over time...
In his opinion the morality of what they were doing far outweighed the cost of a motel room but she told him to go pay for a bad nights sleep in some smelly room while she lived the high life out of her 'lil green book'.
She had a small cheap acid green plastic bound diary snatched from a stationary shop which she used to scrawl dates of when her 'second, third, fifth, ninth and fourteenth,' homes would be available by looking at calendars and personal effects in her 'homes'. This wasn't a system without it's flaws but it served her well.
He hated her distinct distaste in paying for anything in life, if she could steal, borrow or misplace something with no intention of returning or paying for it then she'd make it clear that was the option she'd rather take. He never understood this, he called her a miser but to little effect as that wasn't what she was and they both knew this.

'Do you believe in God?' He asked her taking a long gulp from his wine glass.
'No.'
'Well... You're missing out!' He sighed running his hand through his cropped charcoal hair.
'I'm not.' She smiled.
She looked at their companion wedged in between them in the small corner seat they had commandeered at the bar the taxi had dropped them off at. They had told the taxi driver to take them to 'any bar' and this was as good as 'any.' Their new friend was silent and rigid with big aviator sunglasses hiding a large percentage of his square face. She turned to her friend who was drinking deeply from his wine glass again. 'What about you then?'
'Yeah, I believe in some sort of God-like thing. You know, something had to make us otherwise we wouldn't be here.' Her eyebrows raised at his satisfied expression from his own answer.
She took in a long breathe, 'I think we're just here, some freak anomaly of nature coughed out life and that's it. A spark of life, totally random. From then on as living things we have evolved into cognitive beings who have waaaaay too much time on their hands in an otherwise lonely empty universe.' She drained her wine glass in half the time it had taken him to drink his. 'You really like saying God tonight.'
Watching her place her empty glass on the table in front of them, 'Waiter can we get the lady a refill please?' He cried snapping his fingers. There was no reply from the quiet sparsely filled bar. He squeezed out of the corner standing in front of the table declaring 'Get them myself then shall I?'
'Stop being an idiot Joe.' She snapped, 'Get me a big glass this time too.'
'Thought you didn't like wasting money.' Joe replied.
'I don't care. He's paying.' She jerked her thumb at their silent companion.

'What the hell are you doing in my apartment!?!'
'Oh fuck...'
'Great plan!'
'Run!'
A tall square faced man in an ashen suit marched into the apartment throwing his suitcase into the kitchen area. The dark haired man dressed only in a faded blue t-shirt and boxers looking startled and frozen stiff as his fair companion sprung over the back of the couch and ran towards the door beside the kitchen where she had left her clothes and belongings in the bathroom. She thanked all the modest people in the world for putting locks on bathroom doors and quickly jabbed the catch as she slammed the door.
'You bastards! Get the hell out of here!'
Joe remain frozen to the couch, the leather felt like it had fused in connection to his own skin and his arms remained locked in their ridiculous position spread across the couch. Perhaps it was because he had been sat in that same position all night after quickly finishing his beer not at all taking in the fact it was imported and expensive. Or maybe the sudden fear of being caught had frozen him completely; high stress situations always terrified him. It wasn't long before he was finally misplaced as the square headed man in the ashen suit had lunged at him throwing him off his expensive leather couch pinning him to the rug and knocking the glasses and beer cans off the coffee table sending them skittering across the floor. He had promised himself he wouldn't make a mess!
'What are you doing here?' His adversary roared leaning over his prey pinning his arms over his head.
A decent reply wouldn't come as blood pumped through Joe's ears the only word he could hear was her instruction, 'Run, run, run, run, run...' pulsed through him and he writhed and struggled under the suit's grip gaining some momentum in his legs he managed to arch his back and throw his assailant off and also headbutt him in the same movement. He scrambled away from the stunned suit and raced towards the kitchen and began hammering on the bathroom door.
'Help! Oh God! Help Cass!'
'Who sent you?' The resident snarled as he fumbled his way into the kitchen clutching his nose with his spare hand the other raking through a drawer.
'Cass! Fucking hell! Seriously!'
'WHO SENT YOU!' The chestnut hairs on the back of his neck rising in fury.
Joe turned around to see the suit brandishing a large kitchen knife, 'Whoa there buddy, no need for that...' Gulp. 'You put that down now... We're not here for any reason... Nothing bad... Come on... Put it-'
The suit lunged.

'How long before we take him home?'
'Dunno, he's been awfully good. Didn't say anything, didn't try to stab anyone. We can take him home in a little while.'
'Good, he's beginning to creep me out.'
'This is all your fault to start with.'
'My fault? You abandoned me!'
'Do you really think if the tables were turned I would have let him get anywhere near a fucking butcher's knife?'
'We won't know will we...'
'Know your surroundings.' He rolled his eyes at her, 'And have an ounce of common sense. Then we might get further without having to take him out to apologise.'
'This is the worst apology I've ever witnessed...' He muttered finishing his, what would appear to be, sixth glass.
'We have to make do. I think it's good, nice drinks, cool people. Good times! Don't look so sad about it. He's a bastard remember.'

'What have you done!?'
'H-he came at me! I didn't know what I was doing!... Oh God!'
'Calm down! Doesn't look that bad...' She inches towards the sprawled out suit laid disguarded on the floor. 'Shit...'
'Oh God... Oh God! I didn't mean to! Fuck!'
'How the hell did you do that?' Suprise and panic in her voice.
'He... He pinned me... He had the knife it was right over my face! Oh God, fucking hell, christ!'
'Yeah... Ok... But how did you get it through his eye?'

'Don't know why you're all worried about God and Heaven anyway, it's not like you're going there any time soon. You're perfectly capable of defending yourself.' A small laugh.
'You... Don't understand...'
'Sure I do... Just never stabbed a guy through the eye.' A shadow of her squawking laugh slightly diluted by the multiple glasses of wine.
A long pause between the pair as their suited friend sat rigid between them.
'Why are we doing this?' Joe groaned his elbows resting on the table his hands clawing his face in despair.
'Just in case, he spent his night out with two random people, got mortally drunk and accidentally fell on a knife in his kitchen...'
Another silence. The bar was practically empty and their table was the only one occupied, the dregs from the night leaning over the bar in drunken stupor. Their friend wearing his huge sunglasses with the table corner wedged against his groin pinning him to the corner seat with a body support on either side, a half emptied glass of wine in front of him.
Joe never liked his companion's plans, they were always so full of flaws, holes and questionable scenarios that always succeeded in disconcerting him.
'We're going to hell.' He muttered slumping against the table, the suited man in sunglasses veering to the left slightly.
'No. We're going back to his apartment, dropping him on the floor, putting the knife back in and leaving.' As if this were the simplest thing in the world.
'Where are we going next?' He sat up steadying his enemy in a past life.
'How about a motel?'