Reduced Speed
Someone behind them honked, and James's eyes flared. "I know!" he roared, "what do you want from me?!"
"They can't hear you, but I can. And I'd rather you didn't completely freak out quite yet." Molly folded her arms across her chest. "Just... just give it a second, and then try to start it again. Maybe it'll work."
"I can't believe this," James snarled, pounding a hand on the steering wheel. "Almost made it home. I hate this goddamn car!"
"'m sorry," Molly answered quietly. Without even really noticing she was doing it, she hunched toward the passenger door, away from him; a moment later she realized her mistake, but by then James had already noticed.
"Molly, Molly, please," he snapped. "This whole recoiling-in-terror thing, it really isn't helping. I have to be allowed to get angry, and if you're just going to go all fetal-position then I'm just going to get more stressed out."
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do it!" She felt the tears coming to her eyes, as much as she was trying to hold them back. "Please, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean it, just... try it and maybe it will start now and we can go home?"
His hand drummed angrily on the dashboard. "I don't even know if I can drive home now even if it does start; my stomach is just killing me now. I need you to try to hold it together, okay? This emotional outburst thing has got to stop."
"I'll stop, I promise I'll stop, I really really will," she answered quickly.
James turned the key in the ignition, and the car started up readily; then he shifted into drive, hit the gas, and the engine died again.
Molly sat still and quiet, willing herself to not even breathe too loud, as he screamed profanities at the unmoving car.
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