It's nothing like that, really. And it's nothing like driving in the Impala. There's no music blaring through the speakers, and the silence isn't uncomfortable. It's just there, sitting between them like concrete steps in the setting sun.

Sam doesn't drive slow but he isn't reckless either. Careful, controlled and at the same time, utterly casual.

He's done a lot of driving on his own lately and a lot of driving with women he barely knows in the passenger seat. But this is more comfortable than Ruby, for obvious reasons. And more comfortable than Leah, for less obvious reasons he really doesn't want to examine.