femmejosephine | Goin for a ride

She'd had a nice time with Napoleon (who still had a ridiculous name), but it seemed she wasn't done. Her half-joking conversation with Chuck had been the catalyst, but she'd been thinking about it since she talked to Jax.

She needed a motorcycle. Getting to Bondurant's quickly when there was a crisis had always been a pain because she'd either have to wait for a cab or wait for a bus. Having her own transportation made everything easier. And yeah, it was maybe not a particularly intelligent, rational choice in light of the photo and prison record that had appeared, but it at least had a useful reason. She could let herself believe she was really making a wise, convenient choice rather than reacting to something in ways that allowed her to have adrenaline rushes.

She went around to a couple of the dealerships and found a late model Triumph Scrambler in great condition for a fantastic price. The price may have been helped by the amount of flirting she'd done with the salesman, but she knew he wouldn't have gone any lower than he could actually afford, so she didn't feel bad about flirting him down.

Once she picked up a couple of helmets and a bit of gear, she decided her first call needed to be to Chuck. She'd offered to take him for a ride and he'd accepted, and she was pretty sure he meant it. Turned out he did, and so she was waiting in front of his building, leaning against the bike casually. Theoretically, this was just a motorbike ride, but if he offered something else (or she did), that'd be fine too, she thought. She'd see how it went.

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"Sounds like a good plan. I'm in favor of safe-ish," Chuck says, grinning crookedly under his helmet. Actually playing it safe is a different story, after all, but as long as they make it back, he'll be more than alright. He didn't face all those kaiju only to wind up dead or maimed in some motorcycle accident. It's really not something he's honestly worried about, though; he wouldn't be able to make light of it if it were. "Better than the alternative."

"I'll drink to that. Speaking of, you maybe wanna have a beer or something after this?" she suggested, since it was going pretty well. If the beer was in his apartment or they moved to his apartment after, that'd be fine. If it wasn't, that would be fine too. She didn't really have much invested in the answer either way.

The hill they were about to come to was particularly steep, steep enough that it had a grade warning on it, and she zoomed down it like they were on a rollercoaster.

The answer that Chuck is about to give gets cut off, at first, by the way she speeds down the hill, something he can hardly find fault with. If anything, he suspects he'd be driving the same way if he were the one in control of the bike. As it is, he just keeps hold of her, grinning to himself for the rush of it. He hasn't felt this good, he thinks, in a while.

"Yeah, I could go for a beer," he says, pleased at the suggestion. "Definitely."

It was hard to answer when one was almost literally flying down a hill, but when he did answer, she was glad to hear it was positive. She didn't think she was misreading the body language cues, not after both living life and being drilled on it in Section, but she'd misread them before. Always best to confirm that kind of thing.

"Got any booze in your flat or should we find a local? Can't go to mine - out of beer," she noted laconically. If he was paying attention, he'd probably catch the implication that she was willing to go back to his flat, and from there they could negotiate the events. She was keeping him out of hers at least for now because she wasn't sure she'd fully sanitized it before she left. She nearly always did, but she'd rather have time to make sure things looked completely normal before she had a guest.

"Yeah, I've got plenty," Chuck says, shoulders lifting in a slight shrug. Whether she means anything by it or not — and he wants neither to assume nor to disregard the possibility — there's no real reason they should have to go out when his apartment is fairly well-stocked. On his own, he prefers going to bars to staying in, but with company, regardless of the extent of it, that isn't something he needs to take into consideration. "My place is fine."

"Sounds good. Where do you live, by the way?" Nikita asked, since she'd never asked before. She and Chuck weren't into sharing their feelings and she wasn't trying to pry into his life, but she had to know where she was going. It was that simple.

"Bit of a rough patch up here." That was his only warning before she went over a washed out section of the empty road. The bike had good shocks and she had been trained on avoiding wipeouts, but it was still a little rough all the same.

"Shit," Chuck says when they go over the rough patch, though it's more a general exclamation than because he's too shaken. So far she's been handling this thing well enough, and though it's a little strange for him, not being the one at least somewhat in control of something, he trusts her not to drive them off the road or flip them over or anything like that. "I'm in Chelsea Cloisters, you know it?"

"I did warn you," Nikita replied in a teasing, almost sing-song voice, although she would admit the warning wasn't very much of one. She was having a quarter-life crisis, though. Warnings were boring.

"Across the street from Petros Park, yeah?" she replied. She didn't think she knew anyone who lived there, well, not until now. "Easy enough to find. You want to head back there?"

"That's the one," Chuck says, head dipping in an instinctive nod, even if she won't see it. "And yeah, sure, might as well." He's in no hurry to cut this short, but they'll have the ride back, and though it's possible he's mistaken, he gets the sense that this doesn't have to be a one-time occurrence. He'd certainly be interested in giving this a go again, pretty pleased with it now that he's actually tried it. And though he could learn how to drive one himself, and very well might, that's not going to happen overnight.

"Right then," she agreed, and took the next turn, which would slowly work them towards the necropolis and thus the city. It also involved a few roads that were, technically, not open. They were also not really roads. More like heavily used tracks, but that was fun too.

"You having fun? Not planning to chunder in my helmet?"

She was pretty sure he was doing alright, but it was always good to check, especially since the road was going to get rougher.

"I think if I've managed to avoid it so far, that's a good sign," Chuck says, teasing. Really, he'd have been incredibly surprised if a ride on a motorcycle were enough to make him sick, but that's all the more reason why he has no problem joking about it. If he were actually concerned, it might not come so easily. "And yeah, actually, I am having fun. This is living up to the hype, I have to admit."

"Good," she replied, smiling even though he couldn't see it. His voice was teasing, and that was good too. She didn't think she and Chuck would ever have deep dark personal conversations, but they enjoyed each others' company, and that was all that was really needed sometimes.

Besides, deep dark personal conversations were really complicated in her case.

"If you ever wanna go again, let me know. We'll have a beer, have a ride, have some fun. Probably not in that order, though."

"I'm sure I'll take you up on that," Chuck says, grinning to himself. "Seems like a good way to spend an afternoon, if you ask me." Thus far, at least, it's as much fun as he's had in a while, and he has no doubt that will continue to be the case once they get back to his apartment, regardless of what actually happens. "I get now why you'd want one of these."

He just doesn't get the same adrenaline rush from beating up a punching bag, or sparring with someone at the gym.

Goin for a ride

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