“Well that went well.” Zupan slammed the door after throwing the last wheel of his chair into the back of the car, “Fuck.”
“Babe…” Zander laid a hand on his forearm, “Just breathe a minute OK?”
“Yeah.” Zupan gripped the steering wheel, then deliberately unclenched all the muscles in his hands he could actually control, and exhaled gently, “I’m sorry Zander.”
“It could have been worse,” Zander fiddled in his seat, “They invited us to dinner next Friday. And they said you could choose where.”