Jötunheimr

[Existentially Odd]

He shrugged, like she\'d asked him a really difficult question (beyond, "Now?") that he just didn\'t know the answer to, rather than making a statement meant to indicate she was uncertain about where she stood.  Things were pretty clear as far he could tell; she needed space and time to think, he needed to give it to her.

"Well, you wanna\' go get your stuff while I get dressed, then I\'ll give you my number and take you back to your bike?" he offered, interested in keeping his word so that she\'d lean towards agreeing to give him what he wanted; he\'d done more for less in the past, this little bird he wanted to keep singing for him for a long, long time.  He would allow her a lot of leeway.

[Harlequin]

"Sure, okay." She nodded, supposing there wasn\'t much more to be said here, but oddly reluctant to leave. Most of that reluctance was due to the fact that she didn\'t want to face her friends. She knew she would have to lie to them, and the thought killed her. And so it was with a heavy sigh that she lifted herself from the couch and walked back into the bedroom, and then the bathroom contained therein. She retrieved her phone and her jacket, swapped her skirt – once again – for her leggings, and stuffed both skirts into a tiny cloth backpack pulled from an inside pocket. Also pulled from the same pocket were a pair of yellow-tinted aviator goggles, which rested on her forehead, for the time being.

Once she was done changing, phone in hand, she knocked softly on the door, with a call of "Are we decent?"

[Existentially Odd]

"Rarely," the vampire snorted as he stepped over to the bathroom door and opened it for Vivi, understanding what she meant.  He was wearing jeans, boots and his multi-coloured leather jacket (unzipped) over a green button-up shirt - it was a little dressy but he planned to do something with his evening once he freed Vivi, most likely going to Fantastika for a few thrill rides.  Maybe even a pick-up.

"But we are dressed," he grinned, giving his houseguest a once-over as he slid past her.  "Hang on a sec, I just have to do something with my hair," he murmured and proceeded to wet and twist the longer strands atop his head with some wax from an orange container that had been sitting atop the bench.  His helmet would smoosh his hair twists all down of course, but if the product was in, he could quite easily remake his efforts once he got to where he was going.

Unless Vivi said anything during his grooming process, he would then turn, flash her a dimpled smile and say, "Let\'s go!" before heading them towards the garage.

[Harlequin]

It had always been a mystery to Vivianne how the most rugged-looking people could be so anal about their hair. She found it contradictory and rather hilarious, but she doubted Tom would appreciate her laughter, and so kept it to herself as he primped in front of the mirror.  As he did, she futzed with her phone, reading the texts she\'d missed from the evening thus far.

She pocketed the device when her host spoke, however, and followed him placidly out to the garage. There, she re-donned her boots, and, hesitating before she got on the bike, she asked, "Is it alright if I ride behind you, this time?"

[Existentially Odd]

He chuckled good-naturedly and pulled his helmet on, swinging a long leg over the bike and settling himself towards the front of the seat.  "Sure," he said as he slid the key into the ignition, turned it and then lifted the machine so that he could get rid of the kickstand and she could get on.  His voice was somewhat muffled by the helmet over his face, but he\'d lifted the visor to aid audibility.

"You\'re not so shaky tonight, I\'m sure you\'ll be able to hold on.  Plus, I\'ll be able to go a little faster... and you might get scared if you have to watch.  Best you use this opportunity to wrap your arms tightly around my fabulous person so you can pretend it hasn\'t been what you\'ve wanted all along," he told her condescendingly, knowing she wasn\'t interested in getting close to his body at all - though, he couldn\'t figure out why, quite frankly - but that his words might fire her up a little.  She was cute when she was feisty.

Even with a helmet covering most of his face, she should be able to tell he was grinning broadly from the crinkle and the twinkle to his rusty blue eyes.

[Harlequin]

It was more a matter of politeness (not to mention safety), as she was sure he wouldn\'t appreciate a visorful of hair as soon as they picked up any momentum, now that her long blonde locks weren\'t bound by the helmet he now sported.

Expecting nothing more than the simple confirmation, she nodded and moved to get on behind him, but checked at his tone. He was talking to her like she was twelve, and something of a whore, apparently – and accompanying it with a smile she couldn\'t quite interpret, obscured as it was. She frowned in response, "Am I supposed to find any part of that statement attractive?" she asked, halfway earnest, halfway bristling. She eyed the spot behind him dubiously as she waited for an answer, feeling oddly stubborn.

[Existentially Odd]

He twisted his ass to the side a little, so that he could look back at her.  He made a point of hitting the starter button at that precise moment also, so that the throaty wheeze of his bike\'s purring engine filled the enclosed room, forcing him to speak with a bit more vigour as he continued to needle her.

"Nope!" he crowed joyfully.  "But you are supposed to suck it up and get on the bike, otherwise I\'ll assume you don\'t actually want to go home, you want to stay with me and you\'re up for a little fun park play, rather than going and getting say, some more food!"

The glint in his eye seemed somehow magnified by the fact that they were framed by the visor section of his helmet... until he snapped it down to press home the point that he was certain what her decision about coming or staying would be - and time was wasting.  In fact, he shifted so that he was sitting on the seat again and pressed the button in his pocket that started the garage\'s roller door going up.

[Harlequin]

Despite the manufactured shell that housed it, the roar of that engine melted the timid blonde\'s heart straight to the floor. The machine between the vampire\'s legs was a beautiful one, under the factory paint.

Home, he\'d said. Home was relative, but she understood the meaning behind it, and all the other words around it. Finding further speech redundant, she simply obeyed, wondering, as she climbed on behind him and wrapped her thin arms tightly about his waist, if he loved the bike.

[Existentially Odd]

The vampire won his maiden passenger onto his mighty steed and roared out of the garage in due grandeur - clicking the garage door buzzer over his shoulder as they sped off.  He had no love for the machine itself, but for the feelings it evoked and the manoeuvrability it afforded him he had great passion.
 
Their journey back to Vivi\'s bike was not executed at breakneck or even illegal speeds, but the redhead made sure he took the corners lyrically - that is, with momentum and sway that saw the two of them leaning down quite low and following through like a penguin surfaces and lands on ice; smoothly, fluidly.  She clutched at him and he thought of her blood.  It made him smile and enjoy the ride even more.
 
It took him a lap of the park to locate her bike, simply because he went the wrong way (on purpose), but once he found it he parked beside it.  He turned his bike off and removed his helmet while she disembarked.  He cut a very suave figure leaning his elbows on the helmet on the fuel tank, wrists crossing and turning to squint at her over his shoulder, a knowledgeable smirk playing about his lips.  "So you\'ll call me sometime, so we can play, yeah?" he murmured, making it sound as tawdry as possible.

[Harlequin]

When the ride was over, Vivi could\'t help but feel the tiniest bit disappointed. She\'d wanted to see (or, rather, remember) what his bike could do, but he\'d shown her the spped limit, which she hadn\'t seen in two years. She had enjoyed the curves, however – her own bike would never be able to take turns like that, she knew that much. If there was one thing to be said for Tom, it was that he knew how to handle his machine.

The sight of her own bike – a 1952 Vincent Black Lightning (painted black, of course) in frame, with a lighter single-cylinder engine and a distinct lack of any bells and whistles of any kind, but for the tiny, circular dentists\' mirror replacing the usual rearview and the delicate vining flowers etched into the tarnished chrome of the tailpipes – produced a sudden pang of guilt in the blonde\'s heart, of the same type a disloyal spouse might feel.

Once they came to a complete stop, Vivianne was disengaging her arms from  around his waist, and dismounting with a speed that had less to do with wanting to be away than with having a lot of experience getting off motorcycles. "Play what?" she asked, the very picture of wide-eyed innocence as her feet hit asphalt. This time the innocence was an act, however; she knew exactly what he meant, but didn\'t rise to the bait.

Before he could make his no-doubt witty reply, however, she had her phone (one of those obnoxious slide out things with a full keyboard) in her hand, and was asking for his number in so many words.

[Existentially Odd]

He smirked at her act, rather liking this sassy side of her, and dutifully gave his number.  When the exchange was finished he did an impulsive spin (leg over the bike) towards her so that both his legs were on one side of the bike and he could grab her by the hips and pull her in between them.  She was distracted by her phone and he moves faster than anything human ever could, so the surprise would certainly be all hers.

"We\'ll play \'bite the tastiest kitty you\'ve ever met\'," he told her huskily, pressing his face close to her neck and nuzzling her clean warmth.  "And maybe we\'ll even finish with a rousing game of \'mutual climax\' next time too, hmm?" he added, still of the belief that she was just timid and virginal but that he could eventually coax her out of that and into his bed properly.  He jus had to keep hinting how good it would be; she\'d come around.

[Harlequin]

The fact the Tom wasn\'t Human had remained ever-present in Vivianne\'s mind, but that didn\'t stop her from being taken aback by the sudden display of power; a sound not unlike the yipping call of a prairie dog escaped her lips as she found herself pressed against the Vampire, his hands possessive at her hips, while her own were – while not exactly trapped, not easily maneuvered, still clutching her phone.

The initial stiffness melted away, however, as he brought his face close to her neck. Judging by the way she tilted her head accomidatingly to the side, and leaned nto him, sighing – she was ready to play that game right now–

Which turned into right then the very next moment. Congruous with the continuation of his statement the blonde tensed again, and made an effort to step backward, out of his hold. The Vampire, it seemed, had a problem with listening. Or he was simply cocky enough to believe that she would acquiesse to such a proposition, especially in light of her previous rejections.

"I wouldn\'t count on that." she responded – the severity of her tone was determined by whether or not he allowed her to step away; slightly apologetic (as ever) if he did, and as slightly chastising if he didn\'t.

[Existentially Odd]

He held his grip on her hips rebelliously and pouted prettily up at her.  "Why not?  You\'re not scared of me any more!" he justified, figuring that had been the main part of it.  "And I\'ll be reallll nice and gentle with you," he vowed huskily, the left corner of his mouth lifting with the promise of what he could do for her.

[Harlequin]

Vivianne realized three things just then: first, she realized that sometime – entirely too soon, by the sound of it – she\'d have to tell him that she was not attracted to his gender.

Second, she relized that rejecting his advances gave her a kind of guilty pleasure; she had something he wanted, and being able to deny him felt sort of...empowering. She was getting an idea now of why Morgaine played the games she sometimes did.

Third, it occurred to her that both of these meant she was already planning on seeing him again, and really had been all along.

Still, she frowned down at him when he retained his hold on her. "I think it\'s time for me to go home, now," she told him, pointedly ignoring his question and his provocative expression as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. This time, the attempt she made at escape was more definitive. He was pushing his luck.

[Existentially Odd]

He frowned, the pout turning genuine as he was forced to let her go; sadly, the more she fought him, the more he wanted her.  Something about feisty women really did it for him and the way she tilted her head eeeeever so slightly when he got close?  Damn but he found that compliance sexy, too (he wasn\'t too phased by these contradictions - used, as he was, to embracing everything around him and simply going with the flow).

"You\'ll keep," he told her with a cocky sneer, pinching her bottom sharply as she moved away.  Her reaction had him grinning quickly and he spun back astride his back with quite an amazing amount of swagger (for someone sitting down).  "I\'m gonna\' go find me something a lot easier to ride at Fantastika!" he exclaimed, revving his bike as he prepared to reverse it out of the parking lot.  "Call me!" he encouraged cheerfully, making a telephone talking sign near his face, with the thumb and pinky of his right hand.

If she said nothing more to him, he would would be gone in a heartbeat and roar of unbridled engine power.