Not eating cheese, sitting in a Mercedes-Benz with his boyfriend, while married. A plethora of sins. And difficult ones, too. No cheese is a soulful pain, on the east coast. Vermont, man. (Proximity to other demons. In fairness, Thomas Wayne would have also disliked Bernie Sanders, having been good-hearted but staunchly preferring to be charitable over being taxed.)

"Mm." Affirmative. Car on, but not moving. If he's only got one and a half hands, he's not going to eat a burrito and drive 120 miles per hour. He could, but the salsa would be pushing his luck.

"I ended up a fan," because for fifteen years I couldn't go into a regular cinema, "and sitting around in cars always makes me think of them. There's one on the other side of the city, still, but it's under the municipal airport. Which should be a crime, I think."