He’d spent the entire trip tense in the passenger seat. It was quiet spare a few words shared between himself and Daniel. He was either smoking or sleeping and trying to listen out for any conversation from the other four in the back of the vehicle. Ez hadn’t dared to step out too far from the RV. Hadn’t dared to really speak to anyone else traveling with them besides Danny.
It felt terrible. Waiting around for something to happen. Someone to confront him. Instead, he’s just waiting for nothing and burning through too many smokes. Making up for lost time. He’d been told to not bother helping with the patrol. That he could look for supplies later. He felt like a child or a sick person. Relegated to getting ‘rest’ and a ‘break’.
Worst of all: they were right. He’s sat on the back of the RV, perched on a little step as he’s attempting to light another cigarette. He’d wasted most of it, clicking and clicking, watching the little spark and the tiny bit of fuel left. A click. A spark. Nothing. A click. A spark. Nothing. Click. No spark.
“Fuck you!” he shouts still holding the smoke between his lips. Flinging the lighter. And... it hits someone. Nothing that’ll hurt but... it’s shitty timing.
“Oh -- not you.” Ezra stumbles out, looking down embarrassed, “Fuck the light I just threw at you. Not you personally.”
