Lan Zhan is silent for a long moment, and the van's speakers quietly pipe the second song on the album into the empty space between them. Then Lan Zhan shifts his hand a little on Wei Ying's leg, presses his fingers once into the meat of his thigh. "Alright," he says.
"Alright," Wei Ying echoes in a wheeze.
"Is that better?" Lan Zhan checks, because he is a good boy. Then he spreads his fingers out a little wider, because he is evil and must be stopped.
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Lan Zhan is driving to Chicago. Wei Ying tags along.