There's nothing to gain from trying to talk, not really. He's in too bad a mood to fight. And besides, what matters is the fact that they're fucked. It's too late to cry over spilled milk or flattened fences, they just gotta keep going.

Maybe find somewhere safe and get good and drunk, if they're lucky. They're not gonna be lucky, though.

Sucking his teeth, he fixes her with a mock-innocent stare that falls way heavier on the mocking side.

"Sure, I'll keep an eye out while you go shoppin'."

Where the hell's he gonna go, anyway? He opens his own door and unfolds out of the car, stretching his legs, glances around. Quiet enough but they made a racket getting here; it's just a matter of time.

"How much you got out here?"