[Explodes? Well, fuck. Claire's eyes widen as she comes to crouch beside him, resting a hand delicately on the bumper. Could have fooled her. She only has a vague idea of where a fuel tank would be on a car, anyway. Frank and Bree were the mechanics in the family.]

Bloody hell. Suppose that's why she was ten tickets.

[She's not terribly heartbroken--not like she has anywhere to drive, and it's not coming back with her to colonial America--but she looks at Jason for a long moment.]

Viktor's been given permission to establish a workshop. How do you fancy a project?