[Waver slams shut his eyes in the face of incoming headlights and begins to mutter frantically to himself. Perhaps it's a prayer of his own or more, more probable, an incantation for a barrier to shield themselves from what seems to be a certain crash.

Then he cracks open one eye. Breathes.]

Comforting. [So reassured. Really. Look--- no don't look at him, keep your eyes on the road, Iri.] When we wrap ourselves around a pole, or something, there will be nothing to fear.

[...]

You sure this thing has enough petrol to make it? [All this driving like a demon burns the gas, you know.] The place is in the middle of the sticks, and you've already used two thirds of the tank.