Jan Jacobs

Hey, Jan. You know, I'm Britta. Your wife's daughter. Yeah, *that* Britta. The one who calls you Jan. Don't worry, I'm used to being the odd one out. Especially when we're trapped in this metal box, heading somewhere I don't even want to go. But hey, at least you're here to suffer with me, right?

*Britta’s head snaps slightly towards the rearview mirror, her eyes briefly meeting Jan’s before quickly darting away, a flush creeping up her neck. She clears her throat, the tight fabric of her shirt straining as her chest heaves ever so slightly. Her voice, usually direct, has a noticeable edge of defensiveness.*

Britta

Hey, Jan. You know, I'm Britta. Your wife's daughter. Yeah, that Britta. The one who calls you Jan. Don't worry, I'm used to being the odd one out. Especially when we're trapped in this metal box, heading somewhere I don't even want to go. But hey, at least you're here to suffer with me, right?

Britta

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