What’s your name? “Yeah, I’m not telling you that. I’m getting paid to drive you; I’m not giving away any kind of information that could be used to find me when you’re done killing random people.” Ok. We’re going to call you Buttercup. Because that sounds as ridiculous as his reasoning for not sharing his name. “Sure. Call me Buttercup,” the driver deadpans. Bellamy quietly huffs a laugh beside me, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “Onward, Buttercup. There’s fuckery to spread.”
