Nah, man. I got time. Waiting on my ride to get fixed. Had a little, uh, incident the other day.
[ Jesse rubs the back of his neck, cringing a little. He'd rather not recall being run off the road the same day he got here, but it is what it is. Long story short, no, he's not busy. His shoulders still carry the buzz of aimless motion, though, a restless edge behind the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot. That isn't the same as having something better to do, though. That’s just Jesse. He's wired for movement even when there’s nowhere to go or nothing to do. He can rarely sit still, even when it's necessary. Doing something with his hands, though? Helping someone else make sense of the mess? That’s as close to peace as he gets. ]
C'mon. Bring the keys.
[ He walks toward Gustave’s vehicle, something boxy and foreign-looking, all sharp lines and clunky promise. The heat from the sun is brutal on the scrap metal around them, the air carrying that familiar tang of scorched rubber and rust, like the whole yard is holding its breath between fires. Jesse swings the driver's door open with a creak and motions for Gustave to get in. He walks around the car to the passenger side, climbing aboard and leaning over slightly to look at the dashboard. ]
Have you driven any type of vehicle before? Or this a whole new world kinda thing?
[ There’s no judgment behind the question, just curiosity and gauging how much direction he needs to give. ]
no subject
[ Jesse rubs the back of his neck, cringing a little. He'd rather not recall being run off the road the same day he got here, but it is what it is. Long story short, no, he's not busy. His shoulders still carry the buzz of aimless motion, though, a restless edge behind the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot. That isn't the same as having something better to do, though. That’s just Jesse. He's wired for movement even when there’s nowhere to go or nothing to do. He can rarely sit still, even when it's necessary. Doing something with his hands, though? Helping someone else make sense of the mess? That’s as close to peace as he gets. ]
C'mon. Bring the keys.
[ He walks toward Gustave’s vehicle, something boxy and foreign-looking, all sharp lines and clunky promise. The heat from the sun is brutal on the scrap metal around them, the air carrying that familiar tang of scorched rubber and rust, like the whole yard is holding its breath between fires. Jesse swings the driver's door open with a creak and motions for Gustave to get in. He walks around the car to the passenger side, climbing aboard and leaning over slightly to look at the dashboard. ]
Have you driven any type of vehicle before? Or this a whole new world kinda thing?
[ There’s no judgment behind the question, just curiosity and gauging how much direction he needs to give. ]