[Trevor would've worn the leather pants he'd worn to the last fancy event to their little rendezvous ... except that Adrian had, ahem ... disposed of them.
He's wearing jeans and a brown leather jacket, though, when he answers the door.]
[Oh! Despite the fact that she will never know what happened to his nice (?) pants, she thinks he very much looks the part here. On the other hand, with she's looking slightly less prepared with her jeans and shirt so is this reckless confidence?
Revealing a helmet that she held behind her--]
Ready! And this is for you. You'll look very much like a rider.
[Also true. That she can probably wear no helmet, split her head, and it'll allll be fine.]
I don't ride with one. I often get caught by the authorities and they tell me that even countries aren't allowed a free pass and that I should be an upstanding role model to all my citizens.
[She's joking.] Mine's just on my bike. Come, come! [She immediately tugs at one of his hands.]
You can put it on there, I must show you my motorcycle. [She's a lot more upbeat than normal, so which is probably why she's even more likely to joke. Still, she wants to show him this baby parked just outside his house.]
[He lets himself be led since Sen seems to be incredibly eager to take him to her bike, tugging on the helmet as he goes despite her saying that he should just wait until he's outide.
Trevor knows nothing about motorcycles or about what they're supposed to look like, but hers seems -- clean? Clean is good, right?]
[Seeing how Trevor had already put on his helmet, she stops walking for the moment just to make sure it's secure on his head. There--
And then she heard it. He's not wrong: clean is good. Black is good. But his tone at seeing the beast and not even seeing the red accents on the wheels is telling her that there is no hope in this world and that love is dead.
Or more like:]
Have you... Ever been on one before?
[She's not even sure if he's seen one at this rate. Why did he choose the bike and not the car!!]
[Deities, it must be nice to be so ignorant of the RIGHT WAYS OF THIS WORLD. Such as this beautiful sleek machine that he has absolutely no appreciation of. But he's rolling with whatever she wants him to do, so...she can't fault him, can she?
Helmet on, she leans her head back, tilting it to avoid hitting right into his chest, and if he looks carefully, there's a sneaky smile on her face as she revs up the engine.]
Ready. You really better hold on tight because. I mean it.
[Because as soon as she looks towards the road again, the first thing does a sharp full spin, curving so suddenly to test his reflexes. Of grabbing on.]
[Trevor is definitely not holding on tight enough when she first takes off, but as soon as they're starting to curve he does tighten his arms around her.]
Shit!
[He feels rattled inside of the helmet, honestly, but he's not going to cop to that one.]
[All according to keikaku (T/N: Keikaku means plan). Now that he's securely holding on, she will gradually ease him into the beauty of motorcycles.
She slows first after that curve, making sure that he's settled before she hits the road again, moving straight along the road, not too fast and not too slow. Everything is smooth so far. The wind whips around them, and it could be counted as quite leisurely, so far.]
So? Slow enough? Faster? Fastest?
[Basically she's still going to be half a shit about it because he called her bike "Very Black".]
He keeps his arms settled around Sen only a little tighter than they were before, because -- honestly, he has good reflexes, thanks, and holding onto the thing that's going far faster than he's gone in a car (or it seemed like it) seemed like a terrible idea.
He grins, though, because -- well. It is sort of fun.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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what exactly is it you're planning?
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Would you like me to teach you how to drive? I can show how to drive a car or ride a motorcycle.
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Do you have a preference? I will still teach you both it you wish. I was given a motorcycle here so we can use mine, but we may have to rent a car.
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When are you available to do this?
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[Not that she does all the time anymore, but details.
But as she said, she's prompt, the sound of an engine alerting him of her presence as she slides off to get to the door.]
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He's wearing jeans and a brown leather jacket, though, when he answers the door.]
-- So, ready to go?
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Revealing a helmet that she held behind her--]
Ready! And this is for you. You'll look very much like a rider.
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He blinks, taking the helmet into his hands.]
And where's yours, then?
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I don't ride with one. I often get caught by the authorities and they tell me that even countries aren't allowed a free pass and that I should be an upstanding role model to all my citizens.
[She's joking.] Mine's just on my bike. Come, come! [She immediately tugs at one of his hands.]
You can put it on there, I must show you my motorcycle. [She's a lot more upbeat than normal, so which is probably why she's even more likely to joke. Still, she wants to show him this baby parked just outside his house.]
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Trevor knows nothing about motorcycles or about what they're supposed to look like, but hers seems -- clean? Clean is good, right?]
Ah, I -- see. It's very -- black.
[...yep.]
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And then she heard it. He's not wrong: clean is good. Black is good. But his tone at seeing the beast and not even seeing the red accents on the wheels is telling her that there is no hope in this world and that love is dead.
Or more like:]
Have you... Ever been on one before?
[She's not even sure if he's seen one at this rate. Why did he choose the bike and not the car!!]
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And she seemed excited about it.]
Er -- no, I don't think that I have.
[Besides, it looked more compact than driving around in one of those giant metal beasts. It just seems more practical.]
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For now, she looks horrified.
Immediately, she picks up her own helmet and slides into the bike.]
Get on and hold on tight. We need to drive to a place with a little more space, anyway.
[She must remedy this.]
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He slides behind her, even if he feels a bit silly being so much larger, and settles his arms around her waist.]
Lay on, then.
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Helmet on, she leans her head back, tilting it to avoid hitting right into his chest, and if he looks carefully, there's a sneaky smile on her face as she revs up the engine.]
Ready. You really better hold on tight because. I mean it.
[Because as soon as she looks towards the road again, the first thing does a sharp full spin, curving so suddenly to test his reflexes. Of grabbing on.]
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Shit!
[He feels rattled inside of the helmet, honestly, but he's not going to cop to that one.]
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She slows first after that curve, making sure that he's settled before she hits the road again, moving straight along the road, not too fast and not too slow. Everything is smooth so far. The wind whips around them, and it could be counted as quite leisurely, so far.]
So? Slow enough? Faster? Fastest?
[Basically she's still going to be half a shit about it because he called her bike "Very Black".]
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He keeps his arms settled around Sen only a little tighter than they were before, because -- honestly, he has good reflexes, thanks, and holding onto the thing that's going far faster than he's gone in a car (or it seemed like it) seemed like a terrible idea.
He grins, though, because -- well. It is sort of fun.]
Faster.
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