Brian flicked a page in his magazine.

“I’d let you name him,” Justin tried.

“Great. His name will be ‘Hi, you’re on the way to the slaughterhouse.’”

“Brian.”

“Sorry.” Brian glanced up pointedly. “That should be ‘Hi, you’re on the way to the slaughterhouse. Herman.’”

“You would not kill our pet pig.”

“Right.” Brian flipped his magazine shut and leaned back in his chair. “Now I’m hungry.”

Justin resolutely returned to his book.

“The diner has a special on sausages.”

Justin winced. “Gross.”

“You want to drive?”