"- Well, if you'd just ask for damn directions!" his mercedes passes the same sign for the fifth time and his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
"I don't need directions, Jones!" Callen finally settles on the only retort he can think of; even if it is petulant as hell.
"Oh? Then why aren't we there?" it's all knives and fire; sharp and hot and plunging straight in the gut. "If you'd call Sam and ask, we'd get there instead of passing the same pine tree for the sixth time!"
Callen growls.
Nell adjusts her sunglasses, tightens her ponytail, and digs the heels of her boots into the mats. If only to keep from putting them where she'd really like to; up Callen's stubborn ass.
Five minutes pass.
"Nell?"
"What?"
"Call Sam."