"Dude, are you serious right now?“ says Dennis from the back, but Charlie doesn’t hear it, or even register that it was directed at him. With an annoyed groan, Dennis reaches around the headrest and cuffs him upside the head.    "Hey! What the hell was that for?”    "For throwing that aluminum can out the window, asshole!“    Dennis is yelling, so Charlie’s brain starts pumping a cocktail of adrenaline and cortisol; the defensiveness shoots up to 11. "Oh, oh, excuse me,” he spits back, and Dennis starts right in yelling over him (“people like you are the reason the planet is dying!”). It’s cathartic and familiar, like for a second they never left after all and nothing that happened actually happened. Like maybe they’ll be able to go back to the bar and act like real people.    "Enough!” Mac shouts, slamming his palms down onto the steering wheel with an audible smack! that cuts through the air like a whip. The car goes absolutely quiet. In the backseat, Dennis crosses his arms and sits back, glares out the window like a hurt little kid.    Charlie thanks Mac silently, tries to shoot a grateful glance his way, but Mac’s eyes are fixed steady ahead.    Charlie wonders what he’s thinking about.