It turned out that an address alone in an unfamiliar state did not help you get where you wanted to go. Ikkaku's phone persisted in being dead. Yumichika's mother had not kept a California state map in the glove compartment (although they did find an impressive collection of plastic spoons, individually wrapped). They drove back into Boron and stopped near a bit of scary mining infrastructure.

"I guess we'll have to stop for a map or something. How old-fashioned." Yumichika wrinkled his nose at the prospect, then remembered that he was too old to risk not worrying about wrinkles. He tried to look put-out in a non-blemishing way.

"What about your phone? There's no way you packed that huge bag and forgot your phone."

Yumichika humphed. "The roaming charges would be outrageous. I'd rather buy a map."

"You left on all of the lights in your house AND garage, and you're worried about roaming charges?"

Yumichika's eyes grew wide. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. "I wouldn't... I didn't..." He suddenly glared at Ikkaku in a distinctly non-non-blemishing sort of way. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME BEFORE WE LEFT?"

Ikkaku seemed unconcerned by Yumichika's tone and the situation as a whole. "I thought I did. You were acting like a zombie all the way into Oklahoma. Maybe you forgot?"

At Ikkaku's failure to escalate the argument properly, Yumichika's anger fizzled out. "Dear god, the bills..." He slumped into his seat and pressed his face against the window. "The bills..."

Ikkaku clapped him on the shoulder. "At least we can split the gas money, right?"

"You haven't paid for any of the gas. Because you're a jerk. Jerk."

"I'll pay you back later! It'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

"Why are we even having this conversation. How hard is it to buy a map?"

"It's windy. With our luck, it would probably turn into a kite and fly off with me."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. And reading in the car makes me sick."

"You've used your phone in the car without puking everywhere. That has definitely happened on this trip."

"Phones don't count. I don't know why."

"I'm telling your phone you said it doesn't count if it ever recovers from that swim. I'll text it. When we get home and the roaming charges don't apply."

"Your phone plan sucks. And we'll never get home if we don't find this address."

"Your face sucks. We only have to look at the map when we're not moving. I promise. We could even ask somebody at a gas station for directions. Because we need gas again. I hate jeeps. All jeeps."

"But especially this jeep. Because it's wisteria."

"Exactly. And it's clashing with your pink lotion beautifully."

"Thank you for noticing. I tried hard for this look. I did it for you."

"Maybe you shouldn't stand up in the moving jeep anymore. Keep the seatbelt on. Perhaps wear a shirt."

"I'll consider it."

They pulled back out onto the road and drove off in search of a gas station. The day was still young.