I grip the bar and crush it in my fist before tossing it out the window. “That’s littering!” “No, Nuisance. Littering is when I toss you out of the car.” I chuck a Kleenex at her face before she can react and gesture at the smudged window. “Not a single smudge.” Alina rolls her eye, mutters, “Dickhead,” and begins wiping at the glass.
