Chapter three: Stereotypical hideout

Jack was pulled along, hand in hand with his lovely new murderer friend, on the street with only the occasional street light to shine in the darkness of the night.

"Here we are, base of operations!" Jeff said, gesturing proudly to the most cliche abandoned house Jack had ever seen.

Jack groaned over dramatically, shaking his head.

"Christ, could you pick anything more obvious? The creepy old haunted house on the top of the hill is the first goddamned place the police will look once they hear about the friendly serial killer in the neighborhood!"

"Don't say that, you're ruining it!" Jeff whined, crossing his arms.

"You know what'll be ruining it? The police. The police will be the ones ruining it."

"I can take care of the police! I've done it before, y'know, they're not that big of a deal..."

"Oh yes, that makes total sense, seeing how you always sneak around and murder people at night!" Jack drawled sarcastically.

Jeff literally refused to speak to him for a little while after that, not acknowledging him at all other than letting him into the broken down house, but he eventually got bored of it and sat down next to Jack in the house, watching him thoughtfully.

"Okay, it is kind of a stupid hideout, but it's cool, right?" Jeff said finally, a pouting look on his face.

Jack snickered, giving up and nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, we're living out the horror movie fanatic dream," Jack said, smirking. He paused, scooting closer to the other before speaking in a quieter manner. "You're right, it's actually pretty damn cool."

Jeff grinned, his face leaning in the palms of his hands.

"Ha, you dork."