A light tap on her arm.
"Wake up."
Greece groaned softly and turned, her face brushing into the sunlight spilling through the thin curtains. The heat kissed her eyelids, forcing them open. She blinked against the brightness, groaning again as she sat up slowly, rubbing her temples.
"Get ready," his voice came again, calm but firm. "We need to get a move on."
She squinted at him, her voice rough with sleep. "What time is it?"
"Seven-thirty."
"God," she muttered under her breath, swinging her legs off the bed.
She stood, walked into the bathroom, and turned on the tap. Cold water splashed against her face. She lifted her head, staring at her reflection. Her bloodshot eyes looked almost dead, faint shadows beneath them. For a long second, she just looked.
"I see," she whispered to herself. "It actually wasn't a nightmare."
Her chest rose and fell. "Fuck.... God, I hate this."
She finished up quickly, packed her few things into her bag, and stepped out. He was already by the door, sorting through their stuff—two small packages, a backpack, his jacket slung over one arm. They checked out of the hotel without a word.
Outside, the morning air was cool and soft. Greece pulled her bag tighter against her shoulder and took Milo in her arms
"I'm hungry," she said finally as they walked to the car.
"We'll take a stop at the next bus stop," he said without looking at her.
"Okay."
The drive started quiet. The hum of the tires on the road filled the silence.
A few minutes passed before he slowed near a small roadside restaurant. He turned off the engine and said, "I'll be right back."
Greece frowned. "Wait—what?"
He opened the door, stepped out.
"I said don't move," he added flatly, then shut the door and locked it from the outside.
"Hey—what the fuck?" She hit the window. "Let me out!"
He didn't answer. He just walked away toward the restaurant.
Greece huffed, dropped back into the seat, arms crossed tight. Her jaw clenched as she stared through the windshield. Minutes dragged.
When he returned, he was carrying a brown paper bag and a drink. He unlocked the door and handed her the bag.
"Seriously?" she said, staring at the burger and coke inside.
He sat down, started the car.
"I didn't tell you I wanted coke," she said. "You didn't even ask me what I wanted."
"Beggars can't be choosers," he said simply, eyes on the road as the engine hummed back to life.
Greece looked at him, her expression tight, then turned toward the window. The road stretched out endlessly ahead, the scenery blurring past.
"I'm guessing you're not hungry since you didn't get anything for yourself," she muttered after a while.
No reply
"You at least get anything for Milo?" she asked again
"No."
That was all he said.
"Fucking asshole," Greece muttered
"Hey Milo," she cooed while cutting a piece of her burger to give to him. She patted his head while he munched on it eagerly
The silence settled back in, thick and still, broken only by the low hum of the car and the world passing quietly around them.