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Just looks at me, his expression never changing.

Method actors are fascinating.

He climbs into the passenger seat with considerably less grace than he had when we met five minutes ago.

I shut the door, then jog around to the driver's side.

Once I'm behind the wheel, I glance over. “So...” I start the engine. “Where do you live?”

Nothing.

“You have a house, right?”

Silence.

“Apartment?”

Still nothing.

“Homeless?”

He turns his head and gives me that same blank stare.

I sigh dramatically. “Fine.” I throw my SUV into drive. “I'll take you to my place.”

“No.” His voice is rough. “I don't need your help.”

I look over at him.

He's pale. Sweating. Holding his side with one hand. His breathing isn't exactly screaming, I'm fine.

I pull onto the road. “That's adorable.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.” I smile. “I'm just choosing to ignore you.”

“You're stubborn.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

He shakes his head, a pained expression on his face before he masks it. “I don’t doubt it.”

I glance over at him. “I call it knowing what I want.”

He closes his eyes for a second.

“Patch me up...” He exhales slowly. “...then you can drop me off at my truck.” His gaze drifts over my costume. “And you can do… whatever you were planning tonight.”

I shrug. “The Hollow Creek Halloween Festival runs through tomorrow night.”

He raises his brows. “Festival?”

I blink. “...Yes. I figured you’d know that.”

He doesn’t say a word.

“You know, since you’re a method actor.”