It was rather amazing that he'd slept at all after so much gaming and alcohol.  He usually had a sneaking fear that if he'd ever gone to sleep drunk, he'd probably choke and not wake up at all.  The weird thing, though?  He was completely sober upon pulling back the sheets.  He kept to himself the idea that it was his traveling partner's very presence that had sobered him.
        He even woke up after a decent run of five hours of straight sleep, feeling no ill effects from either the food nor the booze... but his thumbs were sure sore.  Stretching, yawning, he turned over and discovered that Charlotte was not in her bed.
        There was a moment of absolute panic.  His eyes leapt to the door, seeing if it had been burst into.  The internal locks were still in place; the window, then?  He rose quickly, taking a closer look--then finally realized that he heard the shower running.
        Heart still racing, he carefully crossed over to the bathroom door, pressing his ear against it.  The shower's stream was interrupted time and time again--someone was definitely in there.  Gingerly, he knocked.
        There was a pause.  "It's open."  Undoubtedly Charlotte's voice called from inside.
        Still... he knew he couldn't be too careful.  The stupidity in dealing with the whole situation suddenly hit him--they could have dragged a million people along behind them without even knowing it.  They weren't being entirely safe about... anything.  Hopefully the desert was the place they were least expected to go, giving them time to plan... or at least to hide.
        Pushing the door open, however, revealed another problem entirely.  The shower glass was a little too sheer.  Just as he was backing away quickly, wondering if he should be more embarrassed about the situation than he actually was, he heard her call out, "Sleep well?"
        He was, of course, inclined to reply--from the other side.  "Quite, yes.  And you?"
        Blissfully unaware, she turned the stream of water off and squeezed her hair out as she answered.  "Not really.  But I don't need to."  Reaching outside of the shower door, she grasped the towel on the hook beside it.
        Eric listened intently, but from outside.  Very much outside.  He was a rather normal, somewhat usual, fully developed human male.  It was only natural to be attracted to a young, naked girl.  But somehow when that girl had been through an incredible amount of hell, plus the fact that she was half "celestial"... it felt so wrong.  Which was probably why, as just about anyone would admit after a few drinks, he felt even more... attracted.  He needed that shower right after she got out.  A nice long, cold shower.
        As he felt the door press against him, he quickly moved with it so he remained behind it while it swung open.  The vision of Charlotte in nothing but a large hotel towel was not helping matters.  It was like... being attracted to his sister or something.  There; if he could hold onto that thought, he'd be fine.  Sister attraction, old ladies, dead kittens... uh... baseball... his sister playing baseball with old ladies and dead kittens.  There, that was that.  He just... wouldn't look at her at all.
        She really couldn't help but notice that not only was he standing behind the door, but his eyes were shut tightly.  Somehow she gained the impression that asking what he was doing might not be the best way to handle the situation, so she walked past without a word.
        And he was grateful.  "I'll be back."  Hurried from his mouth as he darted around the door, pulling it shut and locking it quickly behind him.
        Puzzling behavior.  But she assumed she would learn it eventually.  Or at least manage to find it all less puzzling.  Still wrapped in the towel, she sat on the bed and gave a glance at her "dirty" clothes.  Yes, she'd been wearing them for a while.  And getting new ones may prove to be an extremely smart idea, anyway.  But they didn't take on the same scents and shed skin particles as if a human had worn the same clothes.  She hadn't needed the shower, and when she had been owned by that damn asylum of a "hospital" she rarely got one.  It felt kind of nice.  Kind of different to get wet, be under a stream of warm water, using soap, shampoo.  It really did make her feel cleaner.  And further away.
        Not a thought to dwell on.  She dried herself off fully and dressed, figuring out how to use the hair dryer... but not feeling entirely comfortable with it.
 

        He didn't really appreciate cold showers.  In fact, they sucked.  A lot.  But it was the only thing he felt somewhat "right" about doing, so... he'd done it.  Shivering with the towel around his waist, he emerged from the bathroom to find a scene of utmost pleasantness: Charlotte had hold of the game controller.  Tongue sticking out from her teeth slightly, her lips pulled back just a little in an expression of concentration and frustration, she was working her way through the first area of the very game he'd beaten the night before.  "How many times have you died?" he joked.
        "Three."  She responded, a little distractedly.
        He blinked.  It was only the first area.  He didn't even know that one could die yet, let alone three times.  The game started you out with three full hearts, after all...  "Did you poke something with teeth?"
        "I was curious.  Several times."  She simplified.
        He shook his head, grabbed up his clothes (Which could really use a washing, ew...), and retreated back into the bathroom to dress.  She was a fast learner with a slight over-curiosity... but he could relate.  he might have to start calling her Grasshopper. 

        Once again on the road (and looking for more places to stop for breakfast--which really turned out to be lunch due to the time they'd finally gotten back to traveling), there wasn't a lot of (or any) convincing needed to get the game turned off.  Eric had gotten the impression that it wasn't that his companion disliked the game itself... just the absolute frustration of not being able to use the controller as efficiently as she would have liked.  He comforted her with the idea that every hotel in that particular chain of them would have game systems... but she didn't look entirely thrilled about it.
        No matter, breakfast would make everything better.  "How about a more traditional breakfast food?" he inquired, pulling up to a drive-through donut place.
        Well, she couldn't say no.  Although she wondered what effect all of this new food may have on her... internal organs.  "Sure..."
        "Allergic to anything?" he asked jokingly, one car ahead of them.  "Dislike of any particular flavor?"
        Uh-oh.  She saw where this was going.  "Don't get more than we can eat."
        "We can take some with us--" he began to assure her.
        "Not more than we can eat."  She cut in, trying not to smile at his child-like enthusiasm in ordering one of everything.
        "Oh, fine."  He relented, seeing her unspoken point about wasting food.  He tried not to think about how much extra sugar and fat that he had already exposed his body to, not to mention--  Oops, time to order.  He rolled down the window and ordered a variety of a dozen donuts, plus two extra large cups of coffee... to which he got a mild glare from behind him that he could actually feel boring through his skull.  Had to get her used to caffeine sometime though, didn't he?
        They parked in the lot behind the building itself, taking their respective coffees (even if one of them wasn't particularly fond of it) and opening the sacred box of a dozen donuts.  Well, Charlotte had to admit, they looked good.  They smelled good.  But she had no idea what they were.
        Seeing her merely stare at the box rather than reach to grab one, he pointed out the various styles.  The glazed, the jelly filled, the various combinations of powders and spices.  Cinnamon sounded quite good to her, so that was her chosen first.  The shock of exactly how much sugar coated the outside was a little much--but it did taste amazing.  The texture was also surprisingly pleasant... but it was clearly not a health food.  Perhaps he was looking to commit suicide... and murder. 

        Several hours down the road, three Cure albums, severe caffeine shakes and two bathroom stops later, they were entering areas that the both of them had only seen on television.  And, while that was great... Eric got the impending feeling that he was going to have to steal a car.
        It wasn't exactly a flight of fancy.  It was certainly knowledge by that time that he was the one who'd taken off with their precious experiment.  While his car was nothing to write home about, they were sure to have records even if no one remembered what it looked like.  Truth be told, though... he felt kinda bad about stealing a car.
        Regardless, it was something of great importance... enough to make him stop the stereo in mid-song, placing the disk back into its case.  No damned way he was switching cars without his music.  He noted how the sudden lack of sound puzzled his passenger, and spoke his thoughts.  "We're going to have to steal another car and ditch this one."  New clothes, too... but he wasn't about to get ahead of himself.
        She thought his words over for a long moment before responding.  "How will we do that?"
        "I don't know."  He had to admit.  It probably wouldn't be the easiest matter.  Taking off with a test drive car from a car lot would be totally out of the question, as any authority would be able to locate them easily.  And it wasn't as if he could buy a new car--much good as that stolen credit card had done, it was still a trail.  All things needed to be washed off.
        "Maybe I could do something..." Charlotte's voice was very soft, pondering an unlikely idea out loud.  After all, she did have some effect on certain people.  If nothing else, it would make an interesting experiment regarding human free will.  That thought made one side of her mouth lift.
        He didn't know quite what to say to that.  Other than, "Okay."  Of course, there was that next order of business...  "Where should we go, then?"
        "Find a church."  She suggested.
        Of course.  How stupid of him. 

        In Eric's experience, the best way to find a whole bunch of religious freaks was to look in a small town with a Church Street near the center.  It never failed.  Luckily, there seemed to be a jackpot just on the side of the road from the highway.  He could tell easily; there was a single fast food sign, a gas station sign, a tattered group of tiny motels, and plenty of tiny little roads.  Small town paydirt.
        Taking the exit into the place (of which there seemed no indication of a name) revealed even more glory: a church steeple clearly visible down one of the less torn-up roads.  He ventured a quick glance as they drove to an intersection.  They were driving on Church Street.  He even amazed himself, sometimes.
        His passenger noted the satisfied expression on his face.  "Feeling lucky?"
        He nearly choked on the words--but managed to get control of himself.  "I think we might just luck out here, yes.  Bound to be some superstitious Catholics."
        She couldn't help but grin a little.  She wondered if she even needed the superstitious to accomplish her task... but it couldn't hurt.  "What do I do?"
        The car slowed down a little as he interpreted her question.  It was... a good one.
        Her expression changed into a smirk.  "I see."
        "No, wait a minute."  He defended.  "Can't you... I don't know... alter free will?"
        He had been joking, and she knew that.  Part of it was worth pondering, though...  "Maybe I can convince someone that they want to help us more easily than most could."  Or so she hoped.
        And so did he.  If that plan didn't work... they'd just have to get out of town fast. 

        Parked directly in front of the highest steeple in the nameless village, they sat silent in the car, looking straight ahead.  The very air of "Okay... now what?" clung to them.  Obviously, they'd never done anything of that nature before.  How to begin was rather... difficult to comprehend.
        Then, simply sitting in the car and wondering about it wasn't going to get anything done.  Charlotte finally unlatched her seat belt and opened the door.
        "Whoah, wait."  Eric whispered, as if the parking lot was full of invisible people.  "What do I do?"
        She thought for a moment... then extended one leg out of the car and onto the ground.  "Wait."  She suggested.  With that, she got out, closed the door behind her and walked into the building.
 

        A demon of the farthest reaches of Hell would be more comfortable walking inside a church.  She tried not to show it, but surely she must have been shivering a little.  Of all the foreign things recently plunged into her range of experience of late...
        It was pretty, though.  Bright and sunny.  She hadn't noticed until she'd taken several steps toward the altar.  Of course, as her eyes darted around, she could see the tatters of time and neglect pulling at some of the cracks.
        It was the people of the church that she needed to turn her attention to, however.  Step after step, closer to the rotting crucifix (that awful symbol), she took note of how few people were sitting on little more than decrepit wooden benches near the altar.  Breathe... she had to remind herself to breathe...
 

        Eric had waited in the car for about four minutes.  He knew because he'd been glancing at the clock every few seconds as if perhaps time would bend to his will.  Seeing Charlotte emerge from the church door with a keychain in her hand after four minutes was absolutely unexpected.
        He wasn't about to wait around for answers, regardless.  CDs in hand, he exited the car... but took the keys with him.  Hey, why make it easy?
        With an astounded expression, he followed her to the edge of the lot... where a new-looking dark blue Mustang waited.  Absolutely certain that the car must have been across the street from them, he began to walk past it--then noticed his companion had clicked the unlock button on the keychain twice--and the Mustang's lights flashed.  It was beyond his comprehension for a moment; until the keys were placed into his palm.  Almost as a reflex, he managed to get into the driver's seat and slip his music into the back storage compartment behind him.
        Charlotte slipped into the passenger's seat and buckled up without a word.  She was certainly pleased to see that the most important action of the moment seemed to be a somewhat delicate reverse, then a slightly understated peeling out, then down the road and onto the highway.
        Back to speeding away from possible problems, there was again a long and measured silence.  Seeing as how it didn't seem that Eric was going to be the one to voice the question, she only thought it appropriate to answer anyway.  "I couldn't take it."  She admitted.  There was no way she could walk further toward that awful cross, toward the people praying in front of it.  "So I tried to find the bathroom.  Wound up in the wrong room... but I did find the priest's keys."
        A moment of shock passed into a genuine chuckle.  "That's so sinful."  He commented, letting the word take on all appropriate meanings available to it.  "How did you know which car was his?"
        She smiled, trying to hide it.  "He had pictures of it.  On the desk, on the wall.  In front of his family.  I figure it's sin for sin.  Stealing for vanity."
        Well... he couldn't disagree with her on that point.  "I think you're lucky you're only half human."