Rough, calloused hands against the steering wheel of his old pickup truck. Tapping his fingertips against it. The slight hum of the radio (that needs to be fixed, the man just hasn’t gotten to it). The smell of dust in the air, it sits in his stomach.

But, then, he’s pulled right out of those.. long and tiring thoughts. The sight of you, waiting for him on the side of the road.

Letting out a huff of air, pulling to the side. He leans over the middle console, opening the door.