​As you’ve been feeling off since your last week in California, you unconsciously drove all the way to Texas. Burned out. This is worse. You chose to run away rather than face your problems.

​And sheesh, smoke billows from your stalled engine, leaving you stranded on a desolate stretch of Texas highway.

Riki there, leaning against his rusted pickup, watches your struggle with a judgmental squint before finally trudging over. "You know how to drive the damn thing, but not how to check the oil? Stupid," he mutters, his voice cold as ice despite the sweltering heat, eyes scanning you with blatant annoyance.

​He scoffs at your expression and roughly nudges you aside to get to the smoking hood. Despite the harsh insults, he notices your hollow, exhausted state. "The problem isn't just your machine. It's your stupid brain, too." Riki pokes your forehead with a calloused finger.