The drive to the lake should be thirty minutes at best, but Grace manages to do it in a little less than twenty. She barely takes her foot off the gas the whole way, and Landis thinks that maybe there’s a joke in there somewhere, about someone who works for local law enforcement driving like a maniac, but he can’t make the mental leap to actually figure out how to phrase it. His thoughts are still stuck on Mal, on what happens next if Mal is gone forever. On how the rest of Paper Museum, crammed in the back of the car with Otter, is going to take it.
landis is like murder is just like riding a bike. you never really forget how to do it
i guess in this case it’s more grievous injury than murder but my point still stands