If the tension on the drive to Wyvernia had been strong enough to break stone, the one on the way back flourished tight enough to strangle feathers.
The car pulsed with it. Trembled in sharp tugs of the steering. Sizzled in the ruffling of clothes on leather as bodies shuffled about in discomfort. Rippled in the suspicious look Tristan passed between the guilty parties.
It reached such peak that Tristan just couldn't keep quiet about it anymore.
"What's up with you two?"
Deckard, ever the snob for mindless chatter and inquisitions that invaded his privacy, minded the road with a firm spirit. Audrey decided that the birch trees whipping by were interesting all of a sudden.
Tristan, for the love of all things divine, knew he was unto something now. He'd nitpick at it until he received a satisfying reaction.
"Nobody's saying anything."
Total silence. The hum of the air conditioning seemed louder than necessary.
