"Oh man!" He kicked the shiny metallic red convertible, wincing as his toe throbbed. "Why did it have to break down now?"
Theresa sighed and swiped her bangs out of her eyes, leaving a trail of oil across her face. She wrinkled her nose and wiped her forehead over her jacket, trying to get the black liquid off of her skin.
"Maybe because you didn't bring it to the mechanic like I asked you to!" she snapped. She turned and leaned over the engine, trying to decipher the maze of tubes and wires. After a few moments she threw her hands up in the air in frustration, turning to the purple-haired youth beside of her.
She crossed her arms, very unimpressed. "Any ideas?"
"We could call the others on our PMRs," he suggested.
She cocked a brow. "You left those at the brownstone, remember?"
He gulped. "I guess that means…"
"That you're a dork. I already knew that."
"Ha-ha," he sneered. "I guess we'll just have to wait for a car to come by and help."
"Uh, I don't think I can stand another moment with you!" Theresa exclaimed.
"Well, I can't stand it either!" he shot. "I'd rather be with Cronus than with you!"
"That can be arranged…" said a voice from behind them.
Click.