The sudden octave-jump made Kasey wince in spite of himself, though it was only momentarily before he was collected again. Without taking his eyes off of the stretch of asphalt ahead of him, he raised a hand from the steering wheel as if to stop the barista when he mentioned being robbed. “Okay,<span style="font-style: italic">first off</span>, do I look $30 richer to you?” he asked rhetorically, returning his hand to the wheel. “No. I don’t.” Because he had dropped the money all over the ground before any successful robbing could take place. He pointedly left that part out. “And secondly, show some goddamn respect, I saved your life back there.”<br/><br/>At his passenger’s next remarkable epiphany, Kasey<span style="font-style: italic">did</span>turn his head, if only to stare incredulously. “We fucking<span style="font-style: italic">what.</span>” He shook his head with finality. “Well I sure hope Deena knows how to fucking book it because there is no way in hell.”<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Reno. He’s going to kill you. You’ll never make enough money to pay him back. If you can’t pay him back, you might as well kill yourself and get it over with. </span><br/><br/>Kasey did his best to ignore the handful of voices that whispered sweet nothings into his ear, but he hit the steering wheel with only minimal impact and muttered a curse under his breath as he looked for the nearest place to swing a U-turn. He doubled back in the direction of the horrendously hipster coffee joint.<br/><br/>“What in God’s name are you doing now?” Cassius asked from the backseat. Kasey glared at him in the rearview mirror, hoping that would suffice as a response. It would have to; he wasn’t going to go around talking to his hallucinations in front of someone he’d just met and subsequently tried to rob. Cass glared back, then looked significantly at the body in the passenger seat. “Just push him out and let’s<span style="font-style: italic">go.</span>”<br/><br/>Kasey clicked his tongue in annoyance and ignored the protests from the backseat. “You got a name?” he asked, craning his neck to get a look at the nametag on the front of the bland barista uniform. “Lynn. Okay, Lynn, I’m going to level with you.” They were getting closer to the coffee shop again, and Kasey’s foot twitched anxiously on the gas pedal. “If I’m going back to this fucking coffee shop, it’s for the register. Not your manager. If things go south, you’re on your own.”