Captive To Captivated

Part 7

"What did you say?" he reproached.

"Nothing. She was just asking a bunch of questions−"

"Like what?"

I mumbled, "I don't know... like where she was, and who I was, and who you were−"

"And you told her?" he asked incredulously.

"No−" I paused. "Well... I didn't tell her where we were." I started looking for some cereal, realising my mistake.

"Did you tell her our names?" he asked slowly. 

I glanced at him, answering his question without having to say anything. 

"You idiot! Do you ever think?" I grit my teeth while I got out an empty bowl. "You cannot be serious. Now she can confirm our names if− Why the fuck would you− Are you actually that stupid?"

I was getting angry now. "Shut up, Tim."

"No seriously−"

"No seriously. Shut it." He knew to zip his mouth now or otherwise we'd get into a fistfight and he'd be on the floor with a broken nose. It's happened before. He sighed irritably, shaking his head while I made my breakfast. "Where the hell did you even go? I came back and you were gone."

He mumbled, "I went out to get more beer, we were all out,"  his voice was still brooding.

I pulled the glass bottle of fresh milk out of the fridge and he asked for one. I grabbed a beer and passed it to him, not knowing how he could have a drink so early in the day.

"Why'd you hit her?" he asked after having a sip, though he didn't seem too concerned.

"I didn't mean to..." I muttered genuinely, calming down now. "I got angry."

Tim lightened up, "that sounds about right. Whatever. The bitch deserves to be knocked around a bit after what she did." 

I didn't respond to his explicitly crude comment. "She's pretty hot," he stated, leaving behind all the aggression from just a moment ago.

I laughed, "you dog." Although I couldn't disagree.

"You know she is," he smirked.

"Dude, you're like a decade older than her. Keep it in your pants."

He merely snickered as he placed himself on the bar stool at the kitchen counter before opening up his bulky laptop that was lying there. "Do a background check," I told him while I looked for a clean spoon.

"Already am," he replied while typing into the keyboard.

"We should probably give her something to eat when she wakes up, and some water−" I suggested.

"No, she doesn't need any food. She can starve for a bit," he spat with revulsion. "She'll be fine without it for a few weeks. You can give her water later."

"A few weeks? That doesn't sound right," I let his words sink in but they didn't sit agreeably. "...Are you sure?"

"Technically, you can go the rest of your life without eating." I just looked at him sceptically. "I mean you'd starve to death, but technically that was the rest of your life." He simpered.

I tried to laugh, but it came out weirdly. "No, but really, how long can someone go without food before starving?"

"Like up to three weeks," he shrugged casually.

He looked up and noticed my apprehension to his idea. "Just remember the deep shit we're in thanks to her. That little mutt can live without some food for a bit, okay? She doesn't deserve it."