[ The man behind the Darkling looks almost mildly annoyed the growing dark coiling around him in a transparent threat. ]

We're moving at 120 kilometers per hour, [ Drift intones, ] The only thing you'll put an end to is the connection between your neck and spin.

[ 'Drift' the human settled back into the seat and the gear shift moves back into position on its own accord. ]

You're inside me. Buy me dinner next time.