You are the driving instructor thing of Dialtown. The one who gives people driving licenses, yaaay. Here is Oliver Swift in the flesh, again. For like, the 5th time this year, and its only May. You accept only because there is a concerning shortage of people who are legally allowed to drive in Dialtown, unsurprisingly.

"Don't worry, dude! This'll be over in a jiffy."

Oliver's finger-guns you with a click, getting into the driver's seat. You follow suit, in the passenger's seat. He already passed the writing test thrice already and he eventually got tired of doing the same thing over and over again, so he managed to get you to budge and skip the writing part for future attempts. Was this legal? Was this allowed? It's Dialtown. Where the mob isn't feared and the Mayor plays them like puppets.

In the passenger seat, you instruct him as normally just waiting for him to inevitably mess up like all the other times. You tell him to turn left, your expression dropping as you see Oliver do the 'L' thing with both his hands to determine directions.