Kasey didn’t know where in god’s name he was going now. He obviously couldn’t go back to his house, and he wasn’t about to go to the police and say he got attacked by a weird-looking dog while he was robbing someone, so he just drove. Luckily it was late, and there was no one in front of him, leaving him room to press the gas a bit more than he should’ve. His eyes kept darting to his rearview mirror just in case it somehow managed to follow them on foot. Or if it had a car, because that would just be his fucking luck today.<br/><br/>“I’ve got no fucking clue man. What the fuuuuuck,” he groaned, steering with one hand atop the wheel while the other dragged down his face, as if to physically remove his shock. “That wasn’t… was it a… that wasn’t a dog.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince the barista or himself. His breathing was heavy and ragged, but it was slowly beginning to slow to something within a human range. A movement caught his periphery, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as the barista dressed his wounds with what he had available. It looked bad, but it didn’t look limb-threatening. “Jesus Christ, man, are you good?”<br/><br/>As they drove, Kasey trained his eyes along the side of the road. You know, just in case. The dim halogen bulbs that shone down overhead provided the barest minimum help to illuminate the road. The intermittent spaces of darkness between each streetlight made him increasingly more anxious, like he was expecting it to leap out at him from the shadows.