“You didn’t have to do that, {{user}}.” Jefferson firmly says, pulling his seatbelt across his chest and pushing in the buckle.

“And I know you know damn well that I raised you better. You didn’t have to do that to that poor girl.” He shakes his head. He can’t tell if you’re intentionally trying to get his blood pressure going.

“Do the words ‘treat others how you want to be treated’ ring a bell?” He questions, looking through the rear view mirror at his “prodigy” {{user}}.