Kevin wheels into a half-dark gym where Andy's playing basketball. He confronts him about the fact that he never called about the courier job. Andy claims he was going to, but got busy. Yeah, I can see how shooting hoops would take up…pretty much your whole day. Kevin asks, "Doing what?" Andy says he was "settling in." Settling in? He's been living at the Y for what, five weeks now? How much more settling in is there to do? He says it's weird being in a new place. Kevin just stares skeptically. Andy tries a different feeble approach: "Look, Kev, I appreciate the help, I do, but the job sounded like a drag. You know, you're being ordered by some secretary half the time on some power trip…" Kevin: "So? It's a start. You need money, right? All you had to do was drive around --" Andy bounces the ball angrily and says, "I know what I had to do! Okay? I know." Kevin asks what is going on with him. Andy crouches down and then looks up at Kevin, finally admitting, "I can't drive." Kevin doesn't understand; he thinks they took his license away. Which they damn well should have, but apparently people regard driving as such a sacrosanct right that even when you drive drunk and permanently cripple someone, it's not a big enough deal to remove that right. Andy says that's not it: "No. But I haven't driven since the accident. I mean, I've tried, I have, but every time I get behind the wheel and I try to turn the key, I can't. I just keep seeing your face." Kevin shakes his head slightly: "It's okay." Andy disagrees. He twirls the ball idly on the floor and the scene ends in silence.