[He laughs tiredly but still with plenty of approval and gives her a round of applause, then makes his way over to jump up onto the bike.]
You did great, babe. Thanks for all the help.
[He twists and leans back for a kiss and gives her thigh a squeeze.]
San Antonio, you mean. Or Austin, I think we hit that next, but I wanna get some distance as long as we got highways so I think we'll just go right through. San Antonio's only a little farther than that.
[And if they get stuck in the 1800s again, well, he'll figure it out. But pavement under the bike means it's time to get back up to speed. He pulls his goggles back on just in case they hit more storm, and gets them flying down the road to some radio DJ's chatter about the same stormy night they're a part of. Tornadoes in not just Nacogdoches but other nearby cities, people missing, likely dead. All the while, he has music in his head, not from the forties but from his own time. Just another weird night on the road to home.
An hour or so of good road puts him in a better mood. He's had plenty of time to rest up now and feel all the weird bruises and sprains resulting from being flung from a tornado, but since it's all stuff sustained from riding a tornado he'll wear it with pride. A sign passed along the way makes him laugh and point.]
Wait, Davy Crockett National Forest? Really? Was that dude real?
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You did great, babe. Thanks for all the help.
[He twists and leans back for a kiss and gives her thigh a squeeze.]
San Antonio, you mean. Or Austin, I think we hit that next, but I wanna get some distance as long as we got highways so I think we'll just go right through. San Antonio's only a little farther than that.
[And if they get stuck in the 1800s again, well, he'll figure it out. But pavement under the bike means it's time to get back up to speed. He pulls his goggles back on just in case they hit more storm, and gets them flying down the road to some radio DJ's chatter about the same stormy night they're a part of. Tornadoes in not just Nacogdoches but other nearby cities, people missing, likely dead. All the while, he has music in his head, not from the forties but from his own time. Just another weird night on the road to home.
An hour or so of good road puts him in a better mood. He's had plenty of time to rest up now and feel all the weird bruises and sprains resulting from being flung from a tornado, but since it's all stuff sustained from riding a tornado he'll wear it with pride. A sign passed along the way makes him laugh and point.]
Wait, Davy Crockett National Forest? Really? Was that dude real?