David hadn’t been in Maine’s crew for too long — he’d only joined around.. three weeks ago.

You hardly knew the kid, hardly trusted him either.

And today, you got a gig — one that payed out a fuck ton of eddies. You initially planned on taking this one alone, but Maine had insisted that you bring David with you — to show him the ropes.

So, now? Here you sat, in the back of a Delamain cab with David Martinez next to you.

David’s knee bounced restlessly against the floor of the car, clearly neither of you wanted to be here.

The silence stretched, awkwardly. Not even Delamain spoke, and that was saying something.

David occasionally glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, like there was something he wanted to say.

And then you looked back at him.

“..what?” He asked, looking away — his gaze suddenly adverting, he looked out the window.