Highlander is a woman of few words. I believe like most immortals she makes her words few and therefore precious.
What she hasn’t spent the past few decades doing is perfecting her driving ability to better match how proud she is of her car. I’ve seen her move a parking cone only to proceed to run over it thirty seconds later.
One day she was sitting down and I was trying to get her attention.
No answer. I shot Rodog a mischievous look.
"Highlander, can I drive your car?"
Still no answer.
"If yes, say nothing."
Short pause, look at Rodog. He puts his palm on his face.