He reaches into the backseat and brings out a large container.

"I'm not––"

He opens it, and I'm assailed by the smell of roast beef, ham, and jerky, and my mouth waters.

"Maybe I'm a little hungry," I concede, taking a peek inside. His lips twitch, but he says nothing.

"You can just eat here," he says, and I quickly take out a huge sandwich that is stacked and bite into it.

"Now, more than ever," he suddenly says, "you know you need to pick the right side, Cynthia. Norman and Father don't ...