What started with a random number (BXB) (GAY)

Rifle VS Shotgun

Emory simply brushed Red's hand off and shook his head slightly. "Can you just drive?" He asked, leaning back against the seat.

Red paused for a second, still staring at Emory, specifically the bruising that coated the side of his face. "You have a concussion, and you look like you just got your ass kicked. Who hit you, whose fault was it?" 

"I didn't start it, that's all you need to know," Emory answered, avoiding looking at Red and instead staring out the window at absolutely nothing. 

"Whether you tell me or not, I'll find out," Red responded, finally starting the car and beginning to pull away from the station. "How's the girl?" 

"She's okay, I guess. I promised her ice cream for when she gets set up with her new family because she wanted to go with me." 

Red scoffed slightly, glancing at Emory. "Looks like you're such a role model," He replied sarcastically. 

"Like you'd be much better. You pull guns on people." 

"You start fights with everyone you see just because you 'feel like it.'" 

"You put a fucking tracker in my watch."

"Hey, I buy you shit, and you aren't even grateful."

Emory rolled his eyes and pulled the watch-box out of his pocket. He took the watch out and dropped it in the cupholder of Red's car. He slid the ring of his finger and did the same with that. 

"Yeah, 'cause I don't fucking want it."

Red put his foot on the brake and stopped the car, pulling over to the side of the road. "Too bad. You're gonna wear both." 

"Funny," Emory responded bluntly. "Neither of those will stay on me." 

As Red started to say something else, Emory rolled down his window. He then proceeded to take the ring from the cupholder and throw it outside onto the grass. 

"Go get that," Red immediately commanded, his tone turning colder. 

Emory shrugged. "I don't want to." 

"Here's what you're gonna do," Red started, leaning across the center console of the car. "You're gonna get the fuck out of my car, get on your hands and knees in the grass, and search for that ring until you find it. Feel free to walk home if you don't wanna do that." 

Furrowing his brows, Emory looked at Red, visibly annoyed. "On my hands and knees? Like a fucking dog? Am I a dog to you?" 

"You are right now." 

"That's an insane thing to say. You're insane. Did killing all those people get to your head?" 

Red leaned over Emory and opened the car door for him. Then, he unbuckled Emory's seatbelt and quite literally shoved him out of the car.

Emory fell from the Chevrolet, slamming against the pavement, his shoulder hitting against the curb. "What the fuck?" He complained, his voice raising as he sat up, narrowing his eyes. 

Reaching over again, Red closed the car door, not sparing Emory a glance as he turned back to look down at his phone. 

"This is abusive as fuck," Emory grumbled, standing up and going to open the door. When he tried to open it, he saw that Red had locked him out. 

He rolled his eyes and pounded his fist against the window. Red ignored him, pretending not to notice. 

 It was obvious that Emory wasn't going to be let back into the car until the ring had been located. He didn't want to find the ring, but he didn't want to sit outside either.