[ He hears the car before he sees it; a deep, throaty engine rumble bouncing off the asphalt. Jesse doesn’t look up right away. He’s hot, tired, and pissed, shoulders hunched against the late-day sun as he trudges alongside the road like it personally offended him. His shoes kick up little clouds of dust with every step. He smells like gasoline, sweat, and frustration. The van’s a good hundred yards behind him now, dead and listing slightly in the gravel like a shot-up animal. Fuel leak. Of course. Just his luck. He doesn’t even have cell reception here. Wherever the hell here even is. He hears the engine downshift, slowing.

"Yo! You need a lift, bro?” Jesse finally lifts his head, squinting into the light. There’s a guy hanging out the driver’s side of a dusty Hummer H3, window rolled down, hair moving with the breeze like it belongs on a shampoo commercial. The dude looks too friendly to be real. Some kind of golden retriever energy crammed into a human body. Jesse stares for a second, skeptical. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the offer. It’s just...people like that? They don’t usually stop for people like him.

But he glances back at the dying silhouette of the van, then down at his dust-caked jeans and the reddened knuckles on his right hand from punching the dash earlier. Pride’s a hell of a thing, but so is needing to not spend the night in a ditch. So, after a moment, Jesse raises a hand and calls back. His voice is gruff, but not ungrateful. ]

Yeah, uh...yeah, man. That’d be cool, actually.

[ He jogs the few paces around to the passenger side, grabbing the door handle and popping it open. There's a pause before he gets in, his fingers tapping the edge of the door frame. ]

You’re not gonna, like, start monologuing about crypto or some pyramid scheme, right?

[ There’s a ghost of a grin as he climbs in anyway, settling into the seat and pulling the door shut. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours. Blue eyes flick sideways towards the driver. ]

Thank you, by the way. I'm Jesse.