Separate TablesDesolation didn't understand how it could be so hard to find a red house. Stupid Rifle, why did she have to give him landmarks instead of street names? He grumbled and stared down the row of houses, then snapped his eyes back on the road. It was getting difficult to even see addresses through all the falling snow. With a sigh, Dessy reached into the back seat and pulled out a cell phone. With one hand clutching the steering wheel, he put the phone to his ear and waited for Rifle to pick up. "I hate phones." She didn't pick up, so the irritating default answering machine voice did. "I'm sorry, but this number is not available right now. To leave a message, press eight now. To page, press nine. To call again, press ten." "There is no ten, you stupid whore," muttered Desolation.
Ringringring! His phone screen lit up with Rifle