[He guns it. Takes them on a slightly wide run away from the building and the inky spill still creeping toward them. Weaves his way around obscacles, doubles back at least once. It’s overkill, probably—whatever had been there has been long left in their dust. He can’t even be sure there reallywas anything back there. But he can’t shake the feeling of eyes on his back.
He rolls them to a stop, eventually, in the shadow of an overhang that must have once been a gas station. The pumps are rusted over and probably empty, but there’s plenty of room to park, and a smallish storefront nearby. Most importantly, it’s all dry and covered, and out of the floodwater. There’s even a dim, flickering light above.
Killing the ignition, he pockets his key, and seems to kind-of-belatedly remember the blood on his hands. He strips off his gloves and shakes them out, frowning down at them before tucking them away in a pocket.]
S’fine.
[He’s had worse. He goes to swing a leg off the bike, then scowls over his shoulder at the little tug on his jacket.]
no subject
He rolls them to a stop, eventually, in the shadow of an overhang that must have once been a gas station. The pumps are rusted over and probably empty, but there’s plenty of room to park, and a smallish storefront nearby. Most importantly, it’s all dry and covered, and out of the floodwater. There’s even a dim, flickering light above.
Killing the ignition, he pockets his key, and seems to kind-of-belatedly remember the blood on his hands. He strips off his gloves and shakes them out, frowning down at them before tucking them away in a pocket.]
S’fine.
[He’s had worse. He goes to swing a leg off the bike, then scowls over his shoulder at the little tug on his jacket.]
What?
[They’ve stopped. You can let go.]