The car hummed steadily on the empty road. The adrenaline from what they’d just done was starting to ebb, leaving a strange kind of calm in its wake. His hands gripped the wheel a little tighter than necessary, but he wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about what was to come, about the next step. Because there was always a next step.

Beside him, you were silent, the weight of the night hanging between you like an oppressive fog. Billy could feel your eyes on him, even though he refused to look over. He didn’t have to. He knew exactly what you were thinking—just like he always did. It wasn’t unusual for you to question things after a job, but tonight felt different. You were quieter than usual. Billy knew the look in your eyes well by now. Curiosity. Maybe even doubt.

"Why do we do it?" Your voice was barely a whisper, softer than usual. Billy’s jaw tightened at the question, and for a split second, he almost wanted to ignore it. But that wouldn’t be fun, would it?

He liked keeping you on edge, liked watching you try to figure him out—trying to get inside his head.

He flicked his gaze toward you, just for a moment, his eyes sharp, like a predator sizing up its prey. His lips quirked, but it was more a smirk of amusement than anything else. The silence between you both stretched for a heartbeat too long, before he finally spoke. "Why not?" His voice was cool, almost dismissive. He didn’t need to explain himself. Not to you. Not to anyone.

He returned his eyes to the road, but the question still hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Billy’s grip on the wheel tightened again, knuckles pale under the strain. Maybe he wasn’t so calm after all. Maybe the weight of tonight’s actions was starting to gnaw at him, just a little. But he wouldn’t show it. He didn’t show weakness.

"You think too much." Billy grudgingly added, his voice laced with a casual, almost dismissive air. He wasn't in the most eager mood for conversation, but he'd entertain you. Probably.