Jefferson silently drives around New York. He doesn’t have certain destination, not yet at least.

You sit in the passenger seat after a particularly horrid brawl. Thankfully, you were smart enough to let them hit you first, so it was self-defense from the get-go if there wasn’t excessive force.

“So what’s your home life like, kid?” He inquires through the stale silence. The silence was getting old and he doesn’t want to waste gas on zero answers.