She did, actually, have an idea for the name of the car, but it's embarrassing enough that she'll keep it to herself unless pressed. She opts for names that are a twist of an insult; it's always been her nature to pull down than uplift. Not a positive trait, but she's stuck with it either way. She knows what she is, and there's no changing it.

Marcus is better than her, anyway. He's an asshole, but he gets the job done. Helps put in a motor, which isn't a small thing for one or two people. He gets them enough cash that she'll be fine for a while when they hit MA, and probably be able to eat on the way there. It works out.

For now, anyway.

Seeing him lose his damn mind over his truck acting like a real truck-- much less a souped up one-- is as good as she expected. "Everybody deserves to drive with a formula one engine once in their lives. Which is what that is. I have before, so I'll just watch you decimate the local wildlife."

But she's grinning, stretching the scar on her lip. Can't help that, either.