Nux startles again when her hand brushes his arm through his beaten leather jacket and twitches away, although there's really no room to pull back much. He stares at his arm, then at her -- and then in the phone in her hand. Oh, no. His stomach sinks, heart fluttering with sudden panic when he sees her thumb ready on the dialer.

He's under-prepared for this, it's very clear. He had been expecting it to be easy and quick: grab the car and get out quietly, before anyone could even notice it was gone. Now he's at an impasse. He can't go back to Joe empty-handed, and he can't call him from jail. Neither shame would be forgiven. Neither would be liveable.

So he does the only other thing he can think of. "No," he growls, and darts out a hand to grab her by the wrist, not really hard enough to hurt, but hopefully hard enough to make her drop the phone. He turns in almost the same movement, the jimmy bar in his other hand, and shoves it down beneath the window until he hears the click of the door. He tugs her towards it. "You'll just have to come with me."