"I gotta do something while you're refusing to dish on the goods," she said, looking back at him. Then she turned the radio off. And stared. Like a cat expecting breakfast, or a puppy love, she stared. She poked his arm. She poked it again. Then she poked his ribcage. Traffic was slow enough; it would hold. "I know it wasn't some internet stranger. Something about what you said means I know this person. Someone from the school, yeah? Or like, another hero team up? Booby Drake, master of the team-up slash hook-up. Terrible liar."