Miles and Miles

Adver was driving in his mostly purposeful way, which meant obeying the speed limit with his head in a locked-forward position, chin tilted down, just slightly. Dorge was in the passenger's seat. Without question it would be Adver that drove the vehicle, his vehicle. Dorge never even offers to take the wheel for a while, which is why Adver can almost stand his company.
They were talking about people and their places, one arguing that the people should know them, like an actor knows his role to play. The other arguing that The Other doesn't prescribe to that notion and so why should the people?
It was all because a few hours ago at a little diner the waiter had sat down at a couple's booth to take their order. Adver had smiled at knowing this would somehow, for whatever reason, upset Dorge, but was still annoyed at having caught the latter rolling his eyes. Thinking people should do their jobs correctly is not a backwards notion, Dorge thought his essay would be titled, and planned to go back and capitalize the right words before he printed it to give to Adver. His mind stuck on "is".
In the car the driver was tired of explaining to the passenger why the passenger was wrong, and so imagined having the ability to crumple the cars around him, and in so doing their passengers, with but a single purposeful thought from his mind. That is how Adver Blythe drove with purpose, and that is how he drove at all times. Dorge Kas was not immune to the nature of Adver's thinking and so began to think the same way, but his posture was more wistful and relaxed and involved imagining how their tires would tread all that blood, for miles and miles.
He Wasn't Even Our Waiter was the campaign slogan Adver was running with, and his oratory was concise and edged. He was standing at a podium and there was the flag of his nation draped behind him. The volunteers would remind voters, at the end of their phone calls, And-It-Was-Clear-He-Knew-Them!
The Independent would gain a little ground by saying things like, "Who even says 'waiter' anymore?"
The occupants of the car would slip into silence and slosh through the thoughts that were ever present, a cesspool that only ever seemed to get deeper, and more than once one or the other would reach out and steady his companion, slippery as it was.
I think you should have said "treacherous" there.
"Slippery" is more fun to say. And it's not all broken bottles down there.
People don't read this stuff out loud, you know. And then they slip into silence once more and that's ok. They live in separate apartments in the same building and have for quite some time. When there is food they pound on the wall and sometimes they use each other's toilet, too.
They are dressed formally for their destination but do not know when they would get there, or where exactly it was. Sometimes Dorge would scribble on a piece of paper and read to Adver, always starting by saying "How's this" and Adver saying "Are you using 'was' too much?" Then waiting for the passenger to defend what he'd just written for one point seven miles, before it was reworded.
Our names are completely ridiculous.
I swear to God they sound made-up.
But they're fun to say.
Maybe you should've been named Slippery.
Not bad.
Do you think there'll be a sermon? They both knew there would be. But hearing the other say I fucking hope not, was an island they could both inhabit for a little while. Like when there was food in the apartment.