On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha.
You can listen to the engine moaning out it’s one lone song
You can think about woman, or the girl you knew the night before,
But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do.
When your riding sixteen hours and there’s nothing much to do
And you don’t feel much like riding, you just wish the trip was through.

The rusty speakers above his head warped the melody, but Glim was still able to catch the words. He tilted his head to the side and looked at the book in his hands curiously, more entertained by Bob Seger than the Kafka novel. Back it went, between L and M—he wasn't interested in reading about people turning into bugs, anyway.

He wasn't really interested in books at all.

Words held little meaning to him. They were just a way to communicate—nothing special, nothing fancy. Anybody with half a brain could write, in his opinion, and that artistic crap held little interest for him. 'She blinked her wide azure eyes and allowed him to touch her in her special spot' yadda, yadda, yadda and all that crap.

But it was getting slightly boring, not needing or wanting to sleep, to eat, or to do anything that those normal humans needed to do. He never sat down and thought about what a significant chunk that took from his life, all those things he took for granted actually, in a sense, kept him entertained. Now, though, being dead, he was stuck in sort of an eternal ennui that only killing could seem to cure, and that was something he couldn't take advantage of.

Perhaps he just needed to get laid.

That was actually the title of a book in front of him, oddly enough.

"Story of my life," he said bitterly, then turned the book around.

"I should think the story of your life would be much shorter," said Apoth, who was suddenly there.

"Maybe a pamphlet."

((blershort))

If Glim hadn't been used to gods just popping out of the woodwork these days, he would have probably jumped. Instead, he gave the god a scathing look.

"So I didn't live for long. It happens."

He didn't want to be around this god. He remembered him quite well, and wasn't fond of the memories. Straightening his back (perhaps to stand out more, make himself look better), he turned into another aisle. Maybe something would catch his attention.

"What, you didn't like the new heartbeat?" Apoth pretended to look hurt. "I thought you didn't like being dead." Any normal person wouldn't.

He followed Glim, just for look's sake. It probably would have been easier to just pop up every few feet, but it seemed more... annoying to follow him.

"What are you, a dog?" Glim grumbled from under his breath. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared hard enough at a book to bore holes into the cover.

With a bland look, he turned that book around, also.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," said Glimmerman, his words laced with a discreet 'you fucking suck, man'. "You know, the whole 'eternal searing pain' actually kind of makes it miserable. I'm not impressed."

"I could be." A dog, he means.

"As I recall, you insulted a beautiful piece of arcitecture. You don't need to be impressed."

"That crap? You need to get your eyes checked."

Glim had no appreciation for art. Of any kind. It was a character flaw, if you may. Narrowminded, even.

"And if you're going to be a dog, go bark up someone else's tree." It wasn't as if he was intentionally trying to be rude. Rudeness was a second nature for him, especially when it came to beings he didn't like.

He didn't like Apoth very much.

"What do you want?"

Apoth let the insults slide -- for now.

"Not much. Maybe just to check up on you. See how things are going, you know, see that you're in good health."

Right.

"Maybe this time I can give you a working digestive track again."

"I'll pass." His tone was a bit caustic—you're not my god, and I didn't ask you to follow me around.

He didn't tell Apoth about the constant screaming in the back of his head—the god would probably just smile.

He didn't tell Apoth about the neverending pain—the god would probably just laugh.

"I'm just swell." His smile was as false as his Leave It To Beaver words. "If that's all you wanted to know, you're welcome to leave."

Apoth got a bit closer, possibly a little uncomfortable.

"But that would make this just a waste of time."

There he goes again, cheating: letting off some pheromones, subtly manipulating everything about him to be more... attractive.

Glim noticed this, yes, didn't realize it was intentional. He swallowed and wondered at the familiar and long missed tug at his groin, responding the safest way he knew possible—through anger.

But the anger masked his fear and his slight arousal. Just pheromones wouldn't be enough to get him into bed, but it was certainly enough to muddle his senses.

"Fuck off," he snapped, sharply turning down another aisle. How was it that he always seemed to attract these dangerous situations?

"Well, that's not very nice." Apoth didn't even bother following the laws of physics and just walked through the aisle to get in front of Glim now.

"I'm apt to give you life next if you're too rude." He couldn't really do that because that would cause a divine war, but the threat was good enough.

"You can do that?" Glim asked warily. He thought only Death could do something so drastic, especially concerning him, but—

Well, gods were not beings to make assumptions about. Or to trust. There was only one god he could really believe in, and that was because Death pretty much owned him.

He narrowed his eyes and took a couple steps back, not liking what the close proximity to this god did to his body. The arousal hit him full force when he came within five feet from the man, and he didn't like it in the slightest.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, slightly embarrassed, feeling cornered and attacked.

Ignoring the first question, Apoth opted to avoid the second one. "I'm not doing anything; what do you mean?" He took a step towards Glim as the dead man stepped back.

"Don't you like it?" said the god ever so quietly.

What an interesting question.

Did he like it?

"I...I don't know."

That was an even more interesting answer. Was he really that unsure about liking this attention?

"I mean, I know I don't like you."

That much was true. He could honestly and safely say he didn't like the god across from him.

But what the god was doing...

His body was certainly a traitor.

"You don't have to like me."

Simple enough.

"Do you like it?"

"That's not fair," he snapped, uncertainly. "You're doing something. There's no reason for me to hate you one moment and then suddenly want you to fuck me the next!"

Heads turned at that and Glim sighed. More unwanted attention, this time from complete strangers.

And since when did he become such a bottom?

"Ugh." He turned around quickly, stalking down the aisle, trying, helplessly, to escape from Apoth.

Apoth followed again, but it was more like every person Glim passed was the god.

"You know, I never did anything to influence you. You're the one who wants me inside you, instead of the other way around."

So dirty.

Glim gave him a disgusted look. "You're not doing a good job at winning me over."

He wondered if it was natural for him to want to escape, even worse, if it was natural for him to be slightly afraid.

Scared...

It wasn't like him to be frightened. Even when the gun was pressed against his head the first time, that fateful gun that ended up finishing him off, he hadn't even broken into a sweat. And now some stupid god wanted to bounce him...

...so what?

"You're annoying."

But he was facing Apoth now, eyes void and emotionless and so fucking black, as if in reminder that he was dead. He wasn't running anymore, just watching.

Apoth took the opportunity.

He reached out, grabbing the back of Glim's head, pushing him into a kiss.

Hawt.

((hurt me if this is bad))

Gah.

How does one respond to getting kissed by an enemy?

Especially when the kiss was, well, "hawt"?

This was an interesting turn of events. But then again, wasn't it that the two things that gave him energy were killing and...

...sex?

So he kissed back. Experimentally, of course, and his lips were cold, and his fingers went up to curl against the cloth of Apoth's shirt.

Apoth grinned into the kiss, then broke it off abruptly.

He could have said something. He could have goaded the poor man. He didn't.

The god just continued to grin.

He affected an unimpressed look.

"I've had better."

He wondered if he was just saying that to annoy Apoth.

Whatever it was, every cell in his body was screaming that he had to escape. It wasn't that he was frightened, now; no, it was more like he was being suffocated by a pressing sense of claustrophobia. It was amazing how off-center these gods could knock him, especially since he had once prided himself in being like a rock.

Instead he stood his ground. Cocked his head to the side and stared at Apoth with those inky eyes.

"Actually." He ran his tongue over his lips. "If we did have sex, I do believe I would much rather be the one to do the fucking." He chuckled, slightly. "And since I doubt you would ever let something like that happen, well..."

He left the sentence open ended for Apoth to interpret.