Steering Wheel, Night Sky, Rust

"Rust, this is the third fucking time we've done this. Third fucking time I've fallen right back in, right here, holding onto this goddamn steering wheel and listening to you breathing over there like you're gonna come apart. Third fucking time. What the fuck is going on?"
Rust leans against the door, his brow furrowed, cigarette paused on its way back to his mouth. "They discharge you a little early, man?" he says.