classification

And maybe I had a lot of nightmares last night and it's making shit weird. Okay? There.

[ S I G H. Just. Sigh. ]

No one likes how you drive.

I'm on my way home. Are you there or do I need to come find you?

It's fine. Have fun with your friend. Just not more fun than you'd have with me.

I'm at home. Me and Leon are trying on sweaters.

It's driving lessons. Those aren't fun.

[ What. The shit. ]

The same ones?

I could make them fun. ME. Not him. Have a boring time together.

NO NOT THE SAME ONES.

No, you couldn't. You're not a good driver, Felix.

[ This comes as an afterthought almost, ]

You're not putting him in mine, are you?

[ HE KNOWS IT'S HAPPENED BEFORE! ]

Sometimes bad driving can be fun. Christ.

And no. Before you have a conniption, I'm putting him in MY sweaters. I'm wearing yours.

If you really want to learn, I can teach you. But you have to listen to me.

[ He doesn't know how to ask to send a pic, so he is just banking on getting home in time to see it. ]

[ "Send me a picture." It's really easy. Four words. ]

Are you going to get mad when I screw up? Because I'll probably screw up at least once.

[ It feels stupid to say... ]

If you screw up but listened to me and it is a genuine accident, no.

Then yes. Try to teach me.

[ And because he's feeling less like a sulky baby, he takes a selfie. In it, he's smiling and wearing about four of Locus' sweaters. Leon, laying on the bed atop a mound of clothes, is indeed wearing one of Felix's. The novelty sweater with the taco on it. ]