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THE WORLD was on Astra Hart's side, she had decided when David Rossi pulled Derek aside and asked him, "you live the closest to her building, can you drop Astra off and pick her up from her place?"
It wasn't really a question, why would he make the others go out of their way and inconvenience them? But he couldn't hide the wave of annoyance that overcame him. Why had everyone else agreed to trust her with such ease?
Nonetheless, he gestured to the blonde girl, who followed him down to the parking lot, a smug grin on her lips — she finally had the chance to psych him out — because really why did he have such a hard time trusting her?
So, there she sat in the front seat of Derek Morgan's car, fifteen minutes in and all she'd gathered was that he was fucking weird ( meaning that he didn't listen to music when he drove — did he enjoy making people uncomfortable? Or did he just hate fun? ).
In the silence, Astra did what she could to get his attention, she found herself humming a song under her breath, but the man still wouldn't budge, not so much as bothering to glance in her direction.
She really didn't want to have to do it, but leaning over, she began to mess with the radio station.
He paid her little mind until the car rolled to a halt at the red light, "what are you doing?"
"What does it look like? I'm putting on some music."
"No," he had half the intention to reach out and slap her hand away from the station, but he figured that maybe that would be a little too dramatic.
Astra scoffed, "please, what kind of a person doesn't listen to music in the car? Have you just got bad taste or something?"
"My music taste is better than yours," it was working. "What were you just humming? Rhiannon?"
"If you're about to shit on Fleetwood Mac, I'd think again." Astra could handle a lot, but bashing one of her favourite artists was a step too far. "I'll crash this car right here, right now."
He let out something of a laugh before reminding her, "I'm the one driving."
"And since I was seven I've been around cars — do you want me to crash now to prove you wrong?" He needed to take the bait.
Derek Morgan couldn't help but wonder, since she was seven? He'd known that she had joined the Black Wolves at — seventeen, was it? — so did she just have an undying love for cars or was there always an ulterior motive? No, he quickly dismissed his growing theory, no seven year old would ever fantasise about joining a gang. "I'll take your word for it." Shit, he had more self-restraint than she'd thought.
They fell back into an uncomfortable silence — the only kind that they seemed capable of sharing — as he parked the car outside of the block of flats.
"Will I have the pleasure of doing this again, Morgan?" She asked, not hopefully, but there was a distinct sense of calculative wondering behind her words.
"You're stuck with me every morning and night," the burden was really more on him than Astra, but at least he had the decency to act like it was the other way around.
"If you don't play music next time," she paused until he turned to look at her, "best believe I'll jump out of the car."
