"I told them what to do." Obviously it was that. "There's tissue in the glove department. Save your stupid shirt and use that to clean yourself off."

Sam had had a shirt just like that. Manchester United. He remembered. He'd have bitched over getting blood on it too.

Barty turned off the radio, not in the mood for that kind of sound. Instead he drove in silence, debating what food he was feeling. Maybe he could involve his impromptu date in the decision making process, although he imagined someone like that hadn't ever eaten anywhere with class.