「On the way to the training camp.」
Dean looked at the scenery outside the window, feeling somewhat bored.
The driver was a bald, expressionless African American with fierce features—the type who could blend in with Somali pirates if he had an AK-47.
The two of them had spent over an hour together since getting in the car but had exchanged only two sentences. One was a confirmation of identity. The other was Dean asking several times how long it would take to get to the training camp, and the driver's answer was always, "Almost there!"
"Buddy, do you mind if I smoke in the car?"
The African American didn't turn his head.
BEEP.
The car window automatically rolled down.
Alright, that meant it was allowed.
That prick wouldn't even glance at him, let alone nod!
Dean leaned against the car window, took out a cigarette, lit it, and watched the passing scenery, inhaling deeply.
He discovered that his second-level 'Mind Reading Technique' was useless against this person.
