The lights are a blur when he turns to face him, "I'll kill her,man." He mutters it, hazy with whatever he's taken. Pale hands tighten on the steering wheel. His kindness never stops, it's oppressive, and Jack is drowning in it. He's pissed. He, Slick, the leader of the crew, is fucking pissed that he's let Droog, Dimitri, his right hand man, get into his head. "You don't need to kill her." He says finally, because he knows, if he asked, Dimitri would pull the trigger when he sobered up and wasn't flying down the street, the crew leader behind the wheel. He's a little in love, and he doesn't know how to feel during the bleary morning hours. Everything is blurry. Everything feels too perfect, and everything tastes like dreams and fiction.

10 tracks