Jim Hopper impatiently drums the fingers of his left hand against the steering wheel of his Blazer. His right, balled into a fist against the meat of his thigh, twitches before he finally moves it to the breast pocket of his jacket. He taps the soft pack of Camels he hastily shoved in there a few minutes prior, before he finally heaves a sigh, and drops his hand.

He reaches over to fiddle with the temperature knob, cranking it up higher than he's usually comfortable with, then settles back into his seat. After another minute, and no sign of activity from outside the streaked window, he pulls back his sleeves and checks his watch.

"C'mon, Jane," he mutters. He wishes it was around a cigarette, but he's been trying to cut back.

He moves to honk the horn, but the passenger side door finally flies open, and the young girl climbs in with a blast of cold air at her back. She lurches forward, and Hopper has to restrain himself from pulling her back from a supposed fall, but she only grabs the door handle and slams it shut with a shiver. She yanks at her gloves, a little on the larger scale, and then appreciatively places her hands on the vents with a sigh.

"Hey." It's half a greeting, half a way of trying to get her attention. "Hey," he stresses when she doesn't immediately respond. Her dark-eyed gaze finally sweeps up to meet his furrowed brow. Only her gaze is a glare, and apparently Hopper screwed something up. Again. "Jesus, kid, you're too young to start this teenaged angst crap."

His right hand scratches his chest. The Camels shift in his pocket at the movement. He scratches at the wiry hairs on his chin instead.

She, in turn, crosses her arms across her chest and levels him with her patented unimpressed look. With a barely restrained eye roll Hopper turns to face her, placing his right hand against the head of her seat, and lowers his head to meet her glare head-on. He narrows his eyes when she doesn't relent, and licks his lips before smacking them.

"Y'know, we could always just go back inside. Forget this whole 'Thursday dinner' thing all together."

Her nose scrunches up, and he almost expects to see a trickle of blood to start making it's way from her flared nostril, but instead she pushes herself back with a put-upon sigh. Hopper rights himself, and exhales himself. He doesn't even know what they're even arguing about this time.

He must be racking his brain too hard for too long, because an impatient voice cuts into his thinking: "Going?"

"What?" He glances over at her in his confusion.

She perks a brow, and he wonders who in the fresh Hell taught her that new addition. She points to the steering wheel before resuming her crossed-arm stance. "Still going?"

"Yeah, kid, we're still going." He shakes his head, and moves to place the car in drive, when he notices something just behind her head. Or, rather, the lack of something. "Forget that?"

"Forget what?" Now she's frowning, and he supposes that's slightly better. "No."

"Yes," he drawls as he reaches over her head and snags the seat belt dangling there. He pulls it over her body, clicks it shut, and grunts in approval. "There. That's going to be another rule." He lets this eye roll slip without comment. That one she learned all on her own. "Seat belts. They keep you safe. Jane?"

Despite her initial reaction, he can see that she's tensed up underneath the strap, her hands balled up at either side of her lap. She looks as if she's trying to push herself further back into the seat, trying to create as much space between her body and the strap of fabric in front of her.

His stern gaze softens. "I'm sorry. I didn't think..." he trails off, but doesn't move to undo it. "It really is to keep you safe. Okay? Do you understand?"

It takes her a moment too long to finally nod for his liking, but she does appear to try and relax against it. "Safe." She looks down at it, tugs experimentally, and then looks over at Hopper. "Safe?" She points to his chest with a curious frown.

He twists his mouth, but relents. "I guess better safe than sorry, huh?" He tugs his own on, adjusts the hat on his head, then places both hands on the wheel.

"Ready, kid?"

She offers him a tentative smile.

"Ready. Dad."

TBC...

Please Review.