Overdose Delusion

18

"This place is a shit hole." Willow stated. "No running water, no electricity, no food. You picked a winner here, Jonathan. You honestly did."

Jonathan looked up at her. Since the meeting, and the getaway, Willow had been in a mood. All right, perhaps shouting wasn't the best way to get her attention. But he wanted to get out of there. She was just too talkative and thought it best to sit and chat to soon to be jail inmates. Willow's sarcasm and cynical bluntness was going full pelt here, and he was naturally on the receiving end of it. Not that he cared. Jonathan could admit that perhaps he deserved some sort of backlash.

It would be rather obvious, when he briefly pondered over it, that shouting and Willow wouldn't go hand in hand. After all, she did grow up with abusive parents, just like he grew up with an abusive grandmother. There were certain things he hated which reminded him of that old lady. It was understandable that there would be things which reminded Willow of her biological parents. Shouting seemed to be one of these things. At the moment the black curly haired woman was exploring. Which was probably for the best. Let her have a breather. Jonathan rubbed his wrists. The ties which were around them were tied so tightly that they cut into his skin. Red sore marks etched his skin, it was annoying as well as painful.

Frowning he looked at the pair of hands which had picked up one of his hands and turned it over. "Yikes," Willow's fingers traced the red marks. "Are you all right?"

Jonathan shot her a look. "You're weird."

"I think I got told that before."

"You had another split personality moment, Willow. I thought I'd remind you, but I am fine. Have you recovered?"

"Yeah...I'm sorry I had such a moment. I just don't take kindly to being shouted at. It sort of hurt that you were the one behind the shouting."

"So you're sticking to what you said?"

"Yes. You shout at me again, and I will punch you so hard."

"Hm," Jonathan smirked and held onto her hand. "No, you won't."

"Nah-huh, you can't pull that Stockholm Syndrome shit on me. It only works if someone else hurts you, I can give you a friendly punch if you piss me off."

"There's nothing friendly about punching someone." Jonathan stated while standing up. "You do not like this place then?"

Willow shot him a stupid look. "Jonathan! There's no electricity, or running water...or food! No. I don't like it."

"But the church was in a similar way when you first moved in remember?" Jonathan smiled and put an arm around her shoulders. "You liked the candles, didn't you?" Willow nodded slowly. "Exactly. Here isn't much different. You can make it homely, if you want." She looked up at him thoughtfully as they walked down the corridor.

"I can?"

"Sure thing, go for it. I give you semi free rein."

"Semi?"

"You can't mess with the rooms upstairs. Or some of the ones down here."

"Oh...yes, I wanted to question you about that."

"Yes?"

"There's no indoor handle."

"I know."

"Why?"

"Think prison, Willow." Jonathan put his hand on the handle and pulled it open. The dark street greeted them.

"Jonathan!" She exclaimed quietly as they left the building. "...For real?"