[ Jesse watches the other car screech away, flipping him off like he was the one in the wrong, and it ignites something white-hot in his chest. He throws both hands up in disbelief, voice pitching toward a frustrated growl. ]
Seriously? You sideswipe me, run off like a little bitch, and I’m the asshole?!
[ No point in yelling, but he does it anyway. The offending car is already shrinking in the distance, and it'll be long gone by the time the van gets in working order. He turns back toward the van, still tipped at a stupid angle in the shallow ditch. His ribs ache with the effort of yelling, and his breath comes sharp, adrenaline fraying at the edges now that the immediate danger's passed. That’s when the kid(?) steps up. Jesse squints at him, sizing him up defensively. But no, this one looks weirdly calm. Helmet still on, voice polite. Jesse blinks once, then again, not sure if he heard correctly. ]
You can what? [ He glances between the kid and the van, incredulous. Then back again. He rakes a hand through his hair, fingers catching on grit and sweat. The sarcasm practically falls out of him before he can stop it. ] Look, unless you’re hiding a tow truck in that helmet, I don’t see how you’re fixin’ to get that beast back on the road.
[ There's no real venom behind the sarcasm, just tired disbelief and a little whiplash from the whole situation. Jack’s tone isn’t smug. He’s not posturing. That throws Jesse off more than anything. He exhales sharply, his shoulders finally starting to sag, the tension bleeding out slowly. ]
Sorry. I'm just...it's been a long day. I'm not hurt. Not worse than I already was, anyways. [ He glances at the van again, scuffed but still upright, a hand gingerly pressing to his ribs, feeling the pressure bandage beneath his clothes. One of his eyes is bruised and swollen. He chews on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, then sighs. ] Think we could try popping it in neutral and pushing it out? [ He's skeptical, but it's better than standing here and doing nothing. ]
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Seriously? You sideswipe me, run off like a little bitch, and I’m the asshole?!
[ No point in yelling, but he does it anyway. The offending car is already shrinking in the distance, and it'll be long gone by the time the van gets in working order. He turns back toward the van, still tipped at a stupid angle in the shallow ditch. His ribs ache with the effort of yelling, and his breath comes sharp, adrenaline fraying at the edges now that the immediate danger's passed. That’s when the kid(?) steps up. Jesse squints at him, sizing him up defensively. But no, this one looks weirdly calm. Helmet still on, voice polite. Jesse blinks once, then again, not sure if he heard correctly. ]
You can what? [ He glances between the kid and the van, incredulous. Then back again. He rakes a hand through his hair, fingers catching on grit and sweat. The sarcasm practically falls out of him before he can stop it. ] Look, unless you’re hiding a tow truck in that helmet, I don’t see how you’re fixin’ to get that beast back on the road.
[ There's no real venom behind the sarcasm, just tired disbelief and a little whiplash from the whole situation. Jack’s tone isn’t smug. He’s not posturing. That throws Jesse off more than anything. He exhales sharply, his shoulders finally starting to sag, the tension bleeding out slowly. ]
Sorry. I'm just...it's been a long day. I'm not hurt. Not worse than I already was, anyways. [ He glances at the van again, scuffed but still upright, a hand gingerly pressing to his ribs, feeling the pressure bandage beneath his clothes. One of his eyes is bruised and swollen. He chews on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, then sighs. ] Think we could try popping it in neutral and pushing it out? [ He's skeptical, but it's better than standing here and doing nothing. ]