The knuckles aren't what she first notices. It's the tensed muscles at the back of his neck that tip her off and the knuckles that confirm it. She envies him, how genuinely easy he can be with a dozen concerns on his mind. For a moment, she lifts her hand from Rocky's head, and as he slumbers along unbothered, she runs it down Frank's forearm. Her touch starts to vanish at his wrist, fingertips pulling away from his tattered knuckles.

"You got any CD's in here?" she asks. She could pop open the dash or flip down the sun visor or take a look in the back seat, if she wanted to waste effort and postpone the answer. Sober Jess don't have the time.