Mordecai starts the car and pulls to the road with the flow of cars. The next stop is home, several minutes away. In the meantime, Mordecai refrains from talking or looking over to Rigby. The case for him to hint at him to talk needs to be impossible. Rigby would start over the argument, there would be a situation where he isn't readily prepared for, and he would be under a great mound of trouble. The other things Rigby is wising up to and the possibility of him telling others would also consequently put him deeper underneath. Tonight, once he has time, he's going to have to figure out how to push aside that trouble; making that trouble also impossible. But now that he tries to ignore what happened a few minutes ago; he minds about the car rolling smoothly in sync with the other cars.
Rigby minds too, as he stares downward at the floor of the car and thinks heavily about what happened a few minutes ago. The problem in his mind is a fight with his two fists in his lap: not releasing and persistent. But one large sigh later, Rigby is tired of thinking. He can resolve this problem better next time when it will happen again. He might not even need to help, if only Mordecai can handle the work he gives himself. But that's a bad idea; he needs help before he kills himself －or if he actually does. His fists unclench. Is there something or someone else to think about?
The car has been mostly silent on the trip home, except the tone of the wheels contacting the road being music to the city at rest. Mordecai doesn't look like he wants to talk and he still hasn't looked over. He rather looks irritably out the windshield. He holds the steering wheel strongly in his fists and sits up out of his seat. The only thing keeping him in his seat is him minding diligently about something while he taps his fingers on the wheel. The sweat on his forehead suggests that he had been going around the city on a restless routine. Rigby looks over to the window, peering out to brick and steel buildings from them climbing a bridge onto a highway. He leans back onto the cushion of the chair and crosses his arms onto his stomach. He begins to think about yesterday, what's for dinner, and what needs to be done for tomorrow. And, wait; he's inside of Mordecai's car for once! Mordecai hasn't given him a ride since he bought the car four months ago. Rigby's eyes widen and begin to explore at the fact that it is his first experience to see the insides of the car. In front of him is a glove box that is stuffed full of papers. Above is a visor that appears untouched. And behind him are sleek seats holding his backpack and the pizza. He scans the entire car, and finds himself looking again at the glove box. It seems dirty now that he saw all of the car. The papers were pressed into the glovebox, telling by some papers that were folded around the box. Though, one paper hangs just enough out the box and reads about a few operations with their times in the early evening scheduled for Mordecai. All of the papers had Mordecai's name and something scheduled for him. Starting to read the papers closely, Rigby couldn't make sense of them. He brings his face closer to a description on the paper while Mordecai looks over to Rigby. Rigby looks over to Mordecai, and Mordecai turns back to the road.
Why did Mordecai give him that look? Rigby stares at Mordecai. Here is the typical situation Rigby knows where Mordecai is secretive of something he hides. Now he's secretive about the glovebox. But why does Mordecai look like he's annoyed?
Mordecai pretends as if he didn't look at him. He is still noticeably jogging thoughts in his mind as before, but more intensely. He tightens his grasp on the steering wheel and straightens up to the road in front of him. The car fills with awkwardness as Rigby continues to stare and not say anything. "I'm not talking about it," Mordecai says, breaking the silence.
Rigby didn't respond and continues to stare.
"What dude? You have something to say?" Mordecai continues.
Rigby stops staring and looks down toward the floor of the car.
Mordecai sighs.
"I wasn't going to," Rigby says, "What about the nightshift; what are we doing? Aren't we supposed to sort papers or something?"
"Yeah," Mordecai says suprisedly.
"But why are we doing this again?" Rigby asks.
"Well, Benson needs to clear out storage for more room for things."
"How long is that going to take?"
"He said it'll be from nine to a bit later after midnight."
"Tonight's going to suck!"
"Think smart. The faster you work, the faster it'll be over."
"No. It's something else I gotta do tomorrow and I don't like thinking about my job."
Rigby looks down while calculating something. He takes out his phone and flips through his contacts to someone named Front Desk.
"Hello, this is Harkins from Featmeisters International front desk, how can I help you?" Harkins says.
"Hi, can you take me over to someone in the garage?"
"The garage has been closed tonight."
"OK, can you write a note for them?"
"Will this be for anyone in specific?"
"No. Ugh, nah, don't write a note. Can you figure out the price of getting a radiator fixed?"
"Your radiator? What happened?"
"It overheated, and I need it fixed, really soon. Like tomorrow-soon."
"Rigby, you gotta see if the motorcycle will drive before you assume it's fried."
"But it is really fried."
"Oh, it screwed with something else on your bike?"
"No, just the radiator."
"Oh. I'll get you price then. Is this it for you?"
"Yeah, thanks."
"Bye."
Mordecai asks, "What was that all about?"
"Trying to figure out about getting a whole new radiator. I'm probably going to need to borrow the college's bikes."
"Why don't you get a new bike; isn't the one you have a bit old?"
"No Mordecai. It was one of the few only things I've bought with all of my money at once at a bad time. You helped me be able to not eat stuff like chicken ramen every night."
Mordecai didn't reply. He continues to drive as if he didn't say anything.
"Mordecai," Rigby asks, "there's something big on your mind?"
"No. I'm a little stressed out, man," Mordecai says, turning the wheel.
"That's a little sweat you're breaking out."
Mordecai sweeps his arm across his forehead, wetting his feathers on his arm. But the sweat collects and makes trails down his face. He realizes and says, "Yeah, a little stressed."
"That's bullshit."
"What is?"
"You forgot I went to college and now about my bike."
"Your bike isn't as important as college."
Rigby gawks at Mordecai.
Mordecai frowns, "Look dude, I've been busy all day-"
"Yeah, I get that rap; you're always busy. But Mordecai? My bike isn't important for a school specializing in auto racing? Are you even thinking?"
"I'm just trying to say that getting your degree is important than riding your motorcycle. Ok?"
"But you don't know it's that my bike that wins races?"
"No dude, it's your finals that matter. Dude, why do races even matter?"
"You don't understand; it's that the more I win races, the higher rank I am in my class. The rank I finish at the end of the year determines if I'm in top class or get in a higher class. At the end of the day, doing well in races is what matters. And if I don't win more than three races, I'm dead."
"How many did you win this year?"
"Few."
"You're good, right?"
"Not good enough. My bike's just doing good enough. Besides, just about everyone has realized to buy and optimize the best bikes such that pure luck is the only thing that can make you win."
"Maybe hard work could help."
"It's not like I don't work hard enough already, but everyone's putting in their best now."
Rigby snarls, "Look man, I can think about this crap later. This crap isn't good to think about all at once. I'm going to have to tackle all of this on Monday."
"So forgetting about racing for now -well, how does your college even function?"
"What'd you mean?"
"An auto-racing college on its own is weird and isn't really academic, right?"
"You're right; though it seems like it is on its own, it used to be the School of Auto-mechanics and Auto-racing of Yoshi University-"
"Wait, Yoshi University? How'd you even get in?"
Rigby sighs and looks at Mordecai again.
"Just jog my memory, Rigby," Mordecai says.
Rigby shakes his head, "What do you remember man?"
"Just about you going to school where you raced a lot. I haven't thought too much of it."
"Hm. Actually it's even longer ago."
"What? When?"
"High school."
"High school? I'd remember vaguely about it."
"Ok, you know high school wasn't OK. I didn't survive. But, we used to skateboard and race bikes before and after school as a way to feel better."
"Yeah?"
"So, you always beat me on the race to home, but you'd beat me by your bike's front tire. That made feel like I could beat you the next time, but you kept beating me as much as I tried. So, I remember going to hang out with the other skateboarders and guys so that I could get good enough to beat you. They didn't like me at first and they pushed me around and wanted me to leave their rink. But I needed to just beat you once, so I had to keep going. They finally accepted me after I kept going over and over again. I saw from them that there was so much more in racing and skateboarding. And I loved it. And I loved doing it too. Then one day, some older guys in suits were watching us, and they came over to offer us to do competitive skateboarding for money. They gave us money right on the spot! It was a wild feeling then to feel that I could actually do something excellent for someone, at least for money. But, that did give me hope surviving in life, you know."
"Wow. But you never told me this before."
"I didn't?"
"No. But how'd you get into Yoshi?"
"You're the one who made things possible so that I could get into Yoshi. Featmeisters needed some of the smooth skills that I had; thanks to those skateboarders teaching me. Featmeisters was interested in me enough to ask Yoshi to admit me. Then Yoshi would let me in in trade for my 'potential for higher education' for my athletic courses. And then, I got an invitation in the mail."
"But dude, you didn't graduate-"
"I know, but they kinda went around the rules and reeducated me about high school topics in college. And now that's done and I'm doing stupid college classes."
"How are they?"
"They make me do well on my courses so that my GPA is barely over a two point zero."
"So are there any As in there?"
"No, all of them are Cs."
"Though that means you're doing better than most people are academically. And you know more than most people. And oh! I have a better question: what are you going to major in?"
"Something in sports, or what they call performing-something."
"No, I mean academically."
"Ah? I dunno. They're just throwing a bunch of subjects at me that I don't like."
"What do you like the most?"
"None of them."
"Well, do you have a favorite professor?"
Rigby snarls and says, "No. And dude, this is just as unfun to talk about as it was about high school. But Featmeisters is amazing. They let you work with other big organizations," Rigby smiles, "like IAVAR. Sometimes I race in IAVAR."
"Dude?" Mordecai says.
"Yeah man, the actual, legit International Association for Vehicular Auto Racing. Haven't you seen me sometimes on TV? I usually finish in the top ten when I race."
"That's cool, but how did all of this happen?"
"Anyone in Featmeisters can race in IAVAR, if they apply. And I did. Now I can race for businesses, big corporations, or whatever, and be paid. But I don't race often, again, I'm a motorcyclist, not a car racer."
"So what else about Featmeisters?"
"There's a whole lot of things to do there, to be honest. Tomorrow, I might just go with my buddies and race in the tunnel."
"The tunnel?"
"It's a underground tunnel called The Grand: it's ten miles long and snakes between the surface and underground. It's really awesome. We could go racing there if you know how to race your car."
"I don't know about that, I just got this car."
"A Porsche can definitely race."
"I really like this car man. So no."
"Do you know how to use a motorcycle?"
"Is it like riding a bike?"
"Yeah. It's all really about just balancing. If you don't, I can teach you. Then we could start racing again."
"Oh. Heh."
"Are you interested?"
"Maybe sometime later."
"Ok. So. What have you been doing lately?"
Mordecai pauses for a moment. He continues and says, "A lot of things."
"Such as?" Rigby asks.
"Planning."
"Oh yeah, that stuff. For the park's events?"
"Yeah. I have to plan and schedule for this and next month and show Benson it; although there's no one coming to the park and nothing interesting is happening."
"You mean by no one, as those guys who always come to set up that carnival?"
"Yeah, and those others."
Rigby laughs, "Why don't we try doing something different, like that party one time?"
"No!" Mordecai exclaims, "Benson's going to fire us; you remember what happened."
"But he doesn't have to; my birthday is in a few days."
Mordecai realizes he forgot about Rigby's birthday. He says, "Rigby-"
"Hey! Van!" Rigby exclaims, reaching towards the steering wheel.
Mordecai pushes back Rigby's hands, while he spots the van stopped in the middle of the street.
Mordecai presses the brakes, jolting the car to a quick stop. The pizza and Rigby's backpack thuds onto the floor. The a car behind him braked hard enough to tap his bumper.
"Jackass!" Someone shouts, flicking off Mordecai while driving around Mordecai's car.
Mordecai takes his hands off of the steering wheel for a moment and places them on his lap.
"What the hell are you doing?" Rigby asks.
"Shut up, Rigby!" Mordecai shouts, replacing his hands back and looking in the rear-view mirror to see what's happening behind him. Several cars are stopped behind him. More cars honk and drive around him. Once the last car passes, Mordecai accelerates again around the van.
"Dude?" Rigby says.
"Just hold it for now-" Mordecai says.
"Stop!" Rigby shouts.
"What!?" Mordecai says, "I don't want to talk right now-"
"No, shut up and look!" Rigby says, pointing through the windshield to a mass of people gathered in front of the street.
"What?" Mordecai says, stopping the car. He begins to realize the roar of people shouting rushing in at once.
"D-dude, back up!" Rigby says.
Mordecai places the gear in reverse and pulls back.
"No," Rigby says to himself in disbelief at what he is thinking.
"Hey, It's not what you're thinking. But, I don't know," Mordecai says, veering his car on a empty sidewalk. He switches the gear back to drive.
"Are you blind? That looks more than a thousand angry people -in the Electric District!"
"Yeah. Ok," Mordecai says, focusing on where he and Rigby are located and if the crowd is moving closer.
"But they set fire to those buildings down there! There isn't control!"
"There is, dude. Don't doubt it."
"It's going to get worse! Isn't Surge supposed to be doing anarchy prevention?"
"Yes."
"If there's no control, then how can Surge fix this mess?"
"I said Surge is doing anarchy prevention. Besides dude, if something happened to Surge, everyone would've stayed inside their homes. And if you look at it, the people near to us aren't violent."
"Where is Surge?"
Mordecai looks forward to the crowd. The nearest layer of people are bystanders, looking from a distance into the mass. Another layer hides behind the first, but they are more dense. Then there is the inferno. It is an open ground showing a number of buildings ablaze. They cast a red glow and haze onto the surrounding buildings, the sky, and a person running away from someone. Suddenly, there are yells of danger and to run: The person running away sprints to a building and hurls a brick through a window. The person chasing the runner also throws his backpack through the same window. Then another person comes late after the chaser, but throws another object farther away and with good aim to make through the window. The three people take their nearest way out of sight, into the dancing shadows of the building. The near layer of people begin to disperse rapidly away, fleeing into distant buildings and alleys. Someone makes a fainter yell, then a blast. A quick plume of hot gas and smoke crumbles and scatters the building into fragments, sending a breath-taking shockwave to the car.
"Oh shit!" Rigby exclaims as he begins to panic. He places his hands on the door handle for a moment and then back to bracing the seat by the palms of his hand. He goes to the door again, but comes back to the seat. "See! Prowlers! No one here can do that!" he says while trying to find something to do with his hands.
Mordecai changes the gear and places his hands on the wheel, "This is bad."
"Code Orange, over. There's a substantial escalation of the matter of the riot in the Plaza's Electric District. We've been solicited by Cerberus Cooperation to patrol the perimeter of the district as backup," a voice says.
Rigby has a confused look; there is an imperative voice coming from the glovebox in front of him. Mordecai jumps to the glovebox and unlocks it. A radio falls in front of Rigby and continues to state, "This radio is designated for off-patrol-" Mordecai grabs the radio with both of his hands and presses a button on the radio to complete the message, "Copy that." The rest of the papers begin to slide out to fill the floor. Mordecai takes his hand to try to keep the papers from sliding. But enough papers have fallen that Rigby sees a gun nested in papers in front of him. Rigby is startled at it, backing nowhere into his seat. Mordecai releases the button of the radio and jumps again to grab the rest of the shuffled papers. He snatches and balls up all the papers off of Rigby's lap and the floor, stuffing each ball swiftly on top of the gun and into the glovebox. He finally tries to shut it, but the box springs open again. Mordecai punches it shut. Looking aside to Rigby, Rigby's eyes are still stuck on the glovebox as if he could see through to the gun. He quickly looks up to Mordecai in surprise.
"Fuck!" Mordecai curses as he reclines back into his seat. Then he presses the button, "I'm Mordecai Scott in a ton of crap; ten six, over."
The radio continues, "Scott-"
Crick! Mordecai turns off the radio, but keeps his thumb on the button. Rigby is staring at Mordecai with his radio.
He pauses, takes a breath, and begins to speak, "Hey, Thomas! Stop it! You copy this? This isn't funny, or not really cool, that you're saying these things. This is a game. This is a joke. Please shut up! Thanks. Over."
A cloud of smoke hovers to the car, settling finer pieces of dust onto the windshield and the car hood.
"Rigby," Mordecai says, suddenly remembering his location and looking back over.
Rigby is shaking his head, placing his hand on the handle.
"OK, look. I didn't expect you to see that, OK? Just bear with me for now."
Rigby couldn't say anything.
"Listen, we need to get out of here if we can. I'm not the only person in tough shit right now," Mordecai says, placing his hands onto his lap. "This is the worst time to doubt or change the way you think about me, dude. The worst. Bear with me, please."
Rigby looks to the glovebox again.
Mordecai begins to speak but he stops himself. Then he says, "I have a gun there for a good reason, like in the situation we are in now."
Rigby wasn't changing his look.
Mordecai points towards the inferno and says, "That situation."
Rigby looks towards where Mordecai points.
"Rigby, say something. You're making me uncomfortable."
Rigby didn't say anything.
"Don't you trust me with a gun?"
Rigby looks back to the radio in his hand and says, "What was that about?"
"Uh," Mordecai says, throwing the radio to the back seats out of sight and out of reach. "They -Thomas, and Muscle Man- were joking about the riot. They see the riot on TV too, so they just wanted to mess with us."
"The guy on the radio didn't sound anything like Thomas or Muscle Man, Mordecai."
"He always sounds like Thomas."
"The guy on the radio couldn't be him or Muscle Man, because they don't speak like that or have that tone. And they don't joke about this crap either."
"Look, turn on the radio."
"Bullshit, stop trying to change the subject!"
Mordecai unlocks the doors.
"Dude? What are you doing man?"
"We need to know what's actually going on here. You say Surge isn't operating tonight, remember?"
"If you had your survival skills, you'd know to not dive into this crap."
"It's fine, I'm just going to ask one of them what has happened."
Mordecai unfastens his seatbelt and opens the door. Rigby grabs Mordecai's arm and says, "Mordecai! I still don't want you to get hurt or die!"
Mordecai shrugs off Rigby, "I'm going to see if I can see if there's anarchy prevention at all." Mordecai says, walking outside.
Rigby takes a breath. He is going to forgive Mordecai for what happened, but not with his trust. This is the last time where he is going to let Mordecai speak with strangers who talked funny. Or let alone how the guy on the radio knew so fast that he and Mordecai were in danger. The guy on the radio is in touch with Cerberus, but what did solicit mean? Forget the guy, that gun is a bigger problem. What has Mordecai done with it: did he shoot someone or has he been in some serious trouble? Why is it even in his car?
Rigby turns the car radio on and finds a broadcast report describing a frisky but deadly riot in the Electric District. He then looks to Mordecai walking toward someone. The crowd of people repel from him. The surprised eyes of the crowd see Mordecai's sweaty and messy crest and his soaked hoodie; it looks like he were to be running around like the criminals in the riot. Mordecai stops and stands looking at the crowd, while the crowd also stops.
Mordecai yells, "Hey, I'm not a prowler! Me and my friend just want to know what happened!"
A guy comes from the crowd timidly toward Mordecai. The guy looks up and down Mordecai to judge his shabby appearance. They start to converse. Then they look back to the car. Mordecai waves off at the person and comes back to the car. He re-enters the car, saying, "I know what's going on. It's just a disaster."
Rigby is speaking to a person on his phone, saying, "I don't know if Surge is handling it."
Mordecai sighs.
The person on the line insists, "We know they were. But we've sent backup anyway, despite Surge telling us that there are twenty-one at the site. And thus far, they had contained the riot really well. It's not so much anymore: there's suddenly damage."
Rigby looks confused and looks outside to the riot. Where is a single policeman? The ground begins to rumble, and the car begins to shake. Mordecai and Rigby turn to look at a tank crawling forward.
"But if Surge were to have one more man on the ground, they wouldn't be needing backup now, they'd probably even have ended the riot. Anyways, anything else I can getcha?" The person says.
"No? There's a tank that is just rolling through?" Rigby says.
"Yeah, that's us. Whenever people see our name, Cerberus Corp., they'll get in control. Anyways, you got what you need?"
"Sure. Bye," Rigby says while the other person says goodbye and hangs up. Rigby replaces his phone into his pocket. The tank slows down at the first and second layer of people which parted to let the tank through. The tank continues further to crawl to the riot.
"What did you mean by disaster?" Rigby asks.
Mordecai explains, "Garment had required something stupid to Linnen, which caused us to peacefully protest against it. But some prowlers came and made it violent by taking advantage of making our numbers look bad. But what you see now is the result of everyone reacting against it - I mean it's not everyone. When this happened, I heard about mostly everyone trying to leave. Or it's that people can't leave because there's apartments and hotels down there."
"Let's just get out of here," Rigby says.
"Yeah," Mordecai says, driving out and away from the chaos. He makes it for the street leading home.
The car radio begins to mention, "There has been more than one hundred injured and an unknown amount of casualties. The cost is at an estimated three billion wheatneedles."
Rigby turns off the radio.
"Dude, you shouldn't," Mordecai says shaking his head, "we need to stay in the know."
"No," Rigby says.
"I'm certain this is one of those annual attacks of X Nation."
"Yeah, but I don't want to hear it."
"Why?"
"It's not good."
"It's not that us hearing about hurt people, it's about hearing if the riot is going to spread."
"What?"
"We need to actually take care of ourselves."
"So what's the point of listening to what we saw?"
"We need to know if this spreads to another district."
"Dude, I know. And that's 'if' you say. And it's also the 'annual' problem you say. It's Linnen's problem anyway."
"Dude, there's more to it than that."
"It's just very repetitive, although new people have to get hurt or die each time."
"Still, though."
"What do you mean? Have you seen the population count?"
"Dude, you know people die a lot from these things."
"Then why hasn't anyone done anything about it, man?"
"I don't know, Rigby."
"So every time prowlers blow up a district, we have to turn on the radio and hear that hundreds of people die. That's every year."
"So what Rigby; it's not like several years ago. We still got to help ourselves."
"You aren't hearing me."
"What's your point?"
"Repetition. Even yourself is sounding like a broken record."
"I keep the same strategy so that we don't die."
"So? You're saying the same thing."
"Listen, I'm emphasizing that we don't get ourselves killed. And I'm also saying that I want to keep doing things as we are doing them now. We aren't dead. At least not yet."
"You almost drove us into the middle of a riot tonight, dude."
"I didn't know there was a riot."
"Why didn't you?"
"You didn't know either, man."
"I do."
"Whatever."
The safeline between the Electric District and home has been crossed as Mordecai and Rigby crosses a railway. Rigby slouches back into his seat as the car passes through.
"I just wish we can just move to Cotton."
"Rigby?"
"Forget what I said."
"We can't move."
"Ok. Then why don't we move in with our parents again?"
"Our mom and dad aren't going to like that. Why do you even want to move in with your parents?"
"They're our parents, man."
"I know."
"Then you should also know it's all good. We're just there to get a head start before we get our own homes."
"We don't have enough of anything to do that, dude. Not even passports."
"I think I'd live in our parent's house illegally than to live next to what the Electric District had shown. You agree, man?"
"That's for you to say."
"Dude?"
Mordecai pauses. He continues to say, "I don't know. Maybe it's me."
"What's wrong with our parents?"
"Nothing."
"You know they love you?"
"I do, but."
"But?"
"I don't know."
"What is it?"
Mordecai pauses again. "It's me. Don't worry about what I say," Mordecai continues again.
"You disagree about something."
"Rigby, I'm not connected with mom and dad like that."
"Wait. You don't love our parents?"
"That's not-"
"Mordecai!" Rigby yells.
"Rigby! I-"
Rigby grabs Mordecai's hoodie and points out the window to an incoming train.
Mordecai slams the brake before bumping into the falling guard arms. The arm bends to help slow Mordecai's car. The car comes to rest.
"Are you kidding me, Mordecai? A train!?" Rigby exclaims.
"Rigby!" Mordecai says, placing his arms back onto his lap.
"What man? Do you want me to drive?"
"You can't even see over the steering wheel, Rigby."
"Hey man, what's wrong with you?"
"You fucking piss me off with that shit."
The train passes, and a car behind Mordecai begins to honk its horn.
"What are you doing?" Rigby starts to pester Mordecai with more questions.
The car's driver drives to Mordecai's window to cuss out Mordecai and drive away.
Mordecai begins to press his palms against his face.
"Dude. Mordecai? I'm just trying to help you." Rigby sighs, "Home is just right ahead."
Mordecai slides his hands off his face, "Your ride home is about over; mine is barely over." He begins to drive forward.
"What?"
"Shut up, Rigby."
"What's wrong with you?"
"I really want you to shut the fuck up. Please."
"No, what's wrong with you?"
"Not this bullshit again, dude."
"I'm serious."
"I'm serious too."
"What do mean by your ride?"
"I have places to be."
"Like that surgery?"
"Shit Rigby, what about it?"
"Is that going to work for tonight while you have work?"
Mordecai sighs, "I dunno."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I've rescheduled it."
"So, you're saying that you're going to be here tonight?"
"Yeah," Mordecai speaks too soon, but he continues, "But I gotta pick up a load of boxes from the store for Benson," he pulls into the driveway of the park.
"Well, OK," Rigby says, backing off of that subject. "For a while now, hardly anyone knows how you really are anymore."
"How many times have I told you that I was fine this year?"
"It's just that you lie every time you say that."
"I'd like to you to know that, again, I am fine-"
"You're going to lie in my face again?"
Silence.
"You're a real, annoying nuisance. I'd rather have you just fuck off for fuck's sake honestly."
"What?" Rigby pushes Mordecai's arm.
Silence.
"You think I am annoying?" Rigby asked.
Mordecai shakes his head, trying to unhear Rigby's heated words.
"What about these many times where I started a real conversation that matters like this one? Do they not matter because I'm annoying whenever I start one?"
"What don't you understand that I'm fine despite those conversations! And do you think I am lying to you?"
"Yes!"
"I'm not-"
"No, listen! It's a fact that you're in bad health and you can't lie to me about something that is not going on. Mordecai, I care, rather than everyone else that has gotten used to you-"
"I don't care!" Mordecai says, stopping the car in front of the house.
"Well-" Rigby stops himself. Mordecai doesn't care for his concern anymore.
Mordecai didn't continue.
Silence.
Rigby sighs and unbuckles his seatbelt. He continues, "Well, I tried," feeling like quitting on not assuming him well.
Mordecai slumps back into his seat.
"Nice to say I'm a nuisance," Rigby says and pops the door open. He slides out of the seat, and shuts the door. He walks toward the house's door, unlocks it, and enters the house. Rigby turns back to see what is Mordecai doing. Mordecai is looking at him, but he turns away. The door shuts. Mordecai pulls back out to the driveway, turning around to drive to his next destination.