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Summary
The Javelin is a comfort to him, like always. He slides into the driver's seat, puts the keys into the ignition, and cranks the heat. Between that and the cold medicine starting to kick in, he can feel his body rally a bit and gradually stop trembling by the time he pulls up to Lalo’s place in Sandia Heights, some 40 minutes later. He shakes off the urge to lay on the horn to announce his arrival, feeling petty about running this vague errand at the crack of dawn while sick.
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Nacho comes down with a cold and Lalo is a shitty boss, until he isn’t.
