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Amity bit down on her bottom lip, anxiously peeling the skin away with her teeth. She sat in the back of a parked taxi cab with Clay by their side, hands clasped together on her bare thighs. Their eyes were fixated on the dusty back of the seat in front of her, odd coloured stains permanently etched into the grey fabric.
Clay silently looked out the window to his side, watching the odd car drive past and give them odd looks. Every now and again he would catch the driver giving him a pointed look through the mirror, and Clay would be reminded to only tip him even more each time they made awkward eye contact through a reflection. He peered to his side, watching Amity sit stewing in her own anxiety and overthinking.
"Are we going in?"
Amity would normally feel off-put by a question like that, but Clay had a way of speaking that made her feel more comfortable. She didn't feel as bad for keeping him trapped in a cab that stank of sweat and death (both were concerned about the things that might have happened in the cab), she managed to feel somehow calmer thanks to his question. It must be his aura.
