Lightening the pressure to the gas, he dug heater-warn fingers into the overstuffed glovebox, grazing his gun's barrel as his brake's skid to a lesisurely halt at the curb. Shoving the latch back into place, he pummeled the buttons at his side, easing up only as the passenger-side window began to creep lower.
The face that emerged was shadowed, indistinct, but nonetheless feminine. Black eyes stared in at him, stubborn and unyielding, with a scowl that reminded him of Sarah.
"Where you headed?" He offered a smile, working for disarming.
"Canada." She slaughtered the word. Cay-nada. Those black eyes narrowed at his smirk, and his amusement faded.