[ He does have more (of course he does). Sam takes a minute to produce another bottle, uses a key to snap off the top, before hanging it to her with a curt nod. ]

Beer's fine. [ Sam offers, noncommittal. He takes a swig and stares out ahead, trying to gather his many, crowding thoughts. Beer is fine because it reminds him of home and of long drives with his brother, of easier times on the road in between simple hunts. It's been a long time since those days. ]

I miss being able to drive. [ He says finally. ] Back home, we don't even go around that much. We've finally found a bunker to hole up in where our grandfather used to work, and it's... great, actually, but it's not the same.

[ Not to mention Wonderland, with its lack of space to ride around even if you do have a car. ]