Evan is sitting on the trunk of the civic blinking at the sun. He's hungry, but he's not yet ready to do anything about that.
Kadrey is twenty feet away, crouched down to create a shield against the wind. He sees the sparks and smells the gas but the fire won't come.
The cold is past the skin now and burrowing into muscle but Evan refuses to get off the trunk. He sits up and holds himself.
Kadrey, unlit cigarette between his lips, is standing defeated. He says something but the wind allows no bridge.
Evan sees Kadrey, twenty feet away, saying something. Or maybe just moving his lips. He wonders how close they need to be to beat the wind.