The Aston Martin One-77 purred through Los Alverez's streets, its silver curves slicing through the late morning haze.
Inside, Darren gripped the wheel, his charcoal suit jacket draped over the passenger seat, his tie loosened just enough to signal ease.
Beside him, Amelia sat ramrod straight, her brunette hair barely moving as she clutched a leather notebook, her knuckles pale. She had sunk her eyes into the strands of her bangs, trying to escape the tenseness of the situation and avoid glancing at Darren.
Thankfully, the car's engine constant and smooth humming did its best to fill the silence, but at the same time, made the silence even feel more present because no one would have heard the engine if they were talking.
Or at least listening to some music.
She squeezed her eyes. Why wouldn't he play some music?
Her nervous energy was louder than the humming too. It was practically vibrating off her.
"So," Darren said, glancing her way, his tone light to cut the tension.
