Maybe. I don't want you to do somethin' that'll fuck you up, though. I'll do it first, we'll see what happens. You gotta help me through it if it's bad, like we said last night, right? An' then, depending on what I find out, we'll make sure there's enough for you too.
[Because he sees that look in her eyes, he really really wants this to be the thing they both need. But his experience with vide noir has made him cautious, when he never was before. And while he'll still take risks with himself if it seems like it could be worth it, he's not willing to risk her.
But she's right. Maybe this is the way they can stay together, maybe at least it'll do that for them. Gotta be a better way to do that than to have her try that void shit that fucked his head up and left him dead in the desert back roads.
After one more kiss, he pulls away to finish off the cigarette and toss the butt to the pavement, then gives her an unsure little smile, hops onto the bike and offers her a hand.]
Time to find out.
[They pull out of the parking lot and he takes his time making his way through town once again, unable to help but marvel at how foreign things are starting to look at this point in the future. There's enough to be familiar, sure, but fuck, it's the weirdest one yet, maybe because he doesn't know anything about it. History shit, he'd heard about that. Kind of expected soldiers with muskets, and native folks with beaver traps. And sure, here it's still cars and street lights and radio, but the fashions are odd, the weird little devices that must be phones or radios or walkie-talkies are even weirder, and the sheer number of people and lights outside of a place like New York are really weird.
Food first, and he has his mind set on that taquerÃa if only out of pure curiosity. It's not named something shitty like "Pancho's Tacos" so he has decent hopes, at least. Maybe he shouldn't, but he's eager to find something familiar in all this strangeness.
They pull up and it's a shitty lime-green building that needs updating, and the sign is hand-painted on a sheet of plywood, so already things are going great. He can't help but grin as he parks the bike out front, and they sure must be just at the tail end of the lunch rush because the interior is busy, but there's no huge line.]
All right, you said you wanted a torta when you were fallin' asleep last night. This looks like the place.
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[Because he sees that look in her eyes, he really really wants this to be the thing they both need. But his experience with vide noir has made him cautious, when he never was before. And while he'll still take risks with himself if it seems like it could be worth it, he's not willing to risk her.
But she's right. Maybe this is the way they can stay together, maybe at least it'll do that for them. Gotta be a better way to do that than to have her try that void shit that fucked his head up and left him dead in the desert back roads.
After one more kiss, he pulls away to finish off the cigarette and toss the butt to the pavement, then gives her an unsure little smile, hops onto the bike and offers her a hand.]
Time to find out.
[They pull out of the parking lot and he takes his time making his way through town once again, unable to help but marvel at how foreign things are starting to look at this point in the future. There's enough to be familiar, sure, but fuck, it's the weirdest one yet, maybe because he doesn't know anything about it. History shit, he'd heard about that. Kind of expected soldiers with muskets, and native folks with beaver traps. And sure, here it's still cars and street lights and radio, but the fashions are odd, the weird little devices that must be phones or radios or walkie-talkies are even weirder, and the sheer number of people and lights outside of a place like New York are really weird.
Food first, and he has his mind set on that taquerÃa if only out of pure curiosity. It's not named something shitty like "Pancho's Tacos" so he has decent hopes, at least. Maybe he shouldn't, but he's eager to find something familiar in all this strangeness.
They pull up and it's a shitty lime-green building that needs updating, and the sign is hand-painted on a sheet of plywood, so already things are going great. He can't help but grin as he parks the bike out front, and they sure must be just at the tail end of the lunch rush because the interior is busy, but there's no huge line.]
All right, you said you wanted a torta when you were fallin' asleep last night. This looks like the place.