He breathes deep through his nose. Whatever happens, he's just going to have to push through it. It's strange, though - he can envision some idea of what it's going to be like leading up to the meeting, but trying to plan out what he'll say is like trying to peer through fog. It's all a blank. And he's scared - his knee is shaking a bit under Barbara's hand.

He looks around at the sleeping passengers. "Sorry I'm making you travel so far. I'm buying you clam chowder when we get to San Fran."