Don smiles, this side of self-conscious, folds and creases the scrap of paper that's been leading him around like a dog straining against a leash. He slides the map into his pocket. His hand stays there too.

"How'd you guess?" he says, wry. A hollow metallic boom sounds nearby; Don doesn't flinch but for a fleeting moment his gaze snaps away from the other man. Then it's back, focused. "I'm working on a pickup, a Ford F-150. I know this is a little like walking into a zoo and asking where they keep the goldfish food."

But he's asking.