PRIVATE Night of our Lives | Closed

@Margo Bennett

Her arms around his waist felt good, felt right, he lightly pushed back into her so their bodies were pressed together in one line.

That felt even better.

"Oh, I love the Nazaré run. I had a '60, found it in a junkyard and patched it up myself. Was with me for a long time." Until he got himself ambushed and had to pick between himself or the fucking bike. It hadn't been an easy choice even if it sounded like it now. The amount of blood, sweat and tears he had poured into that bike... it was no surprise to anyone he had gone back to the gang and wiped them all out a week later.

His bike was scrap by that point but at least he got his pound of flesh from them.

"Mmm, not angry at you, darling." A soft shrug as she felt him kick the bike into action. It roared with a warm purr underneath them and they were off. Already on the road in minus five seconds. The rest of the conversation was via comm-link since the wind was fierce at this speed. <<Just angry at the world and how it treats people... you will always be safe from me.>>

His words were warm and he once again pressed back into her a little. The only gesture he could make with his hands full.
 
Glossy, coppery hair fluttered in the wind behind them as the bike roared out onto the roads, and Margo reached a hand up to hold her hat in place, tightening the band briefly before letting her head go. She touched her earpiece to make sure it was transmitting. Colt was a solid anchor there, stable and strong even when they took tight corners and roared down straightaways. Her arms stiffened around his middle, and not for the first time that day she wondered what black magic was happening that she felt so comfortable with this enigmatic stranger.

"Hurts like heartbreak to lose a great bike like that," Margo quipped as the wind whipped around her head. "The 2060 was a great year. That was after their rework of the fuel pump system, but before they screwed up the capacitor in the '63 to '66 range."

Dilettante she might be, but Margo Bennett knew her stuff. Mostly.

"Do you think I'm absolutely nanars to take a motorcycle ride -- out of the city, no less -- with a man with a professed desire to disrupt my family business and possibly harm them?" Her voice was light with mirth, despite the objectively serious content of the question.

 
Somehow it didn't surprise him that Margo knew her bikes.

She was... frankly perfect. If she was a Nomad he would never let her go, but he didn't have any illusions. Because she was a corporate... this... whatever this was would be complicated. It probably didn't have a happy ending. Marriage, babies. The things that Nomads valued- a family. All of that would be tough to pursue, but here he was thinking about such things when they barely knew each other.

It was lunacy.

"I dunno. Am I nanars to take you out on that ride when your family is at war with mine?" A soft shrug there. "I have to believe that while we are part of our family... that doesn't mean we are only our family."

That there was more to them both.

And that that would be enough.

The bike slowed down as they exited off the highway and rode up into the cliffways and hills. He knew of a great spot, it would have a perfect view of both Night City proper and the skyline too.

@Margo Bennett
 
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