"It was perfectly adjusted."
"For you, maybe. I'm not interested in staring at the back of your headrest for the entire drive."
Sam inhaled deeply, immediately regretting it as his senses filled with her scent—something floral with hints of cinnamon and old books. It was... distracting.
"Fine. Just leave the rest alone."
Delilah nodded, then promptly reached for the seat adjustment lever.
"Are you kidding me?"
"My legs are cramping." She pulled the lever, sliding the passenger seat back with a metallic screech that made Sam wince. "There. Much better."
The map between them glowed brighter, as if amused by their bickering.
Sam started the engine, the familiar rumble usually soothing his nerves. Not today. Not with her rearranging his carefully calibrated environment.
Delilah's hand drifted toward the radio.
"Don't even think about it."
Her fingers hovered over the preset buttons. "What station is this? It sounds like wolves being strangled with bagpipes."
"That's Howl at the Moon's greatest hits from 1987! Touch my preset stations again and I'll make you walk."
She pressed the button anyway.
The station changed to a peppy pop song about summer love and broken hearts. Sam's eye twitched.
"Much better," Delilah said, settling back in her seat. "That other stuff was giving me a headache."
"You're giving me a headache," he muttered, pulling onto the main road.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
The map between them shimmered, edges curling slightly upward.
"Is it supposed to do that?" Sam asked, glancing down.
"How should I know? I'm not an ancient cartography expert."
Sam rolled down his window, trying to clear his head of her overwhelming scent. "Could you maybe... tone down the perfume next time? Wolf nose. It's like being trapped in a botanical garden explosion."
Delilah turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Perfume? I don't wear perfume."
"Then what's that smell? The cinnamon and flowers and?—"
"That's just me. My natural scent."
The map suddenly rose between them, hovering in the air. A tiny storm cloud formed above it, no bigger than a softball, dark and swirling with miniature lightning.
"What the—" Sam began.
The cloud burst, raining glitter all over them both. Sparkles landed in Sam's hair, on his dashboard, in his coffee cup.
"Are you kidding me?" he sputtered, brushing glitter from his shoulders.
