Their headlights poke through the Washington fog, picking out the ragged yellow line up ahead as it loops back and forth through various turns. The man keeps his eyes on the road; he tries the high beams but that only makes it worse. He knew that it probably would, but he gives it a go anyway. Almost immediately he returns to the standard beams and hunches forward, continuing his vigilance. The woman stares out through the windshield as well, but seems less able to concentrate on the road ahead. After a moment, she begins talking again. Not to him, exactly, but loud enough for him to hear. Certainly with enough volume for that.