[REGULAR] So you got a bike, eh? (Ellie + Jesse) [FIN]

[LizzyMoo]

F*ck that dream!

F*ck it to hell and back again!

The few days after getting her motorcycle license, she hadn't been able to fully enjoy it. It took a lot to unnerve Ellie, but having a dream where your face was scraped off against the asphalt while on your bike was one way to do it.

Logically, she could tell herself that she was going to be wearing her helmet, and that her face wouldn't be the thing against the asphalt if she did crash. She could logically tell herself a lot of things. However, that tingling in her face after her nightmare ended rarely faded very quickly. It loomed about her cheeks for at least 3 hours after waking up.

Today was Saturday. She needed to get out. She needed to do something.

"F*ck it!" She figuratively was going to grow some balls today and do the thing she loved. Screw that dream for messing with her mind. Screw her face for reacting so retardedly to the dream.

Soon enough, the tomboy was on her motorcycle, helmet firmly in proper place over her head, and backpack on her back. It was almost nostalgic having the air rush past her as she rode along, weaving past cars like almost any other motorcyclist would. In all honesty, Ellie Spectre had no specific location she was going. She was just riding for the sake of riding.

Every so often, she'd stop at a red light, creeping between the other larger vehicles so she was just behind the painted line. One foot planted itself firmly on the ground to the side of her obviously brightly painted vehicle as she waited for the green.

Come on green light!  

[candy lamb]

The green light was taking its sweet time, and as the red sat aroun d scratching its a** another motorcycle weaved through traffic a little to her left. The motorbike that pulled up was of the loving, painstaking shine you got when the rest of the machine was gently dented: somebody's baby, she could see that, well-put together, in 'beautiful condition' that the owner would probably defensively describe as 'beautiful condition'. A Yamaha. '82 Yamaha Vision.

It was a loud one. Probably had a minor exhaust leak, to her practiced ear. Its owner was wearing beat-up denims rather than motorcycle leathers and his jacket had seen better days and all of those days had involved explosions -- they took stock of each other, one faceless motorcycle helmet to another. He did not rev his engine or do anything in the time-honoured tradition of let's race, which was probably a relief considering all of the subconscious splatter films she'd had of herself on the road.

It all would have been fine had a carload of fratboys from DCU not pulled up on that quiet, red-light-waiting road. They were driving an embarrassing boy-racer Nissan Skyline, also a classic, but the four guys in it looked like embarrassing douches. Their windows were wound down, and the guy in the passenger seat (who one backseat passenger looked like he regretted) had the windows down and was calling out something.

She wasn't listening. She didn't really care. Their attention was both on her and the Yamaha: unfortunately the Spectrum was now drawing their attention, mainly due to the rainbow painted on its back.

"A bike f*****t," one of them was yelling in amazement. "A for-real serious bikefaggot." Even the driver was laughing now. He was inching the car, angling, so that when Ellie had to go through the green light she'd have to go around, the Skyline swerving its way too close to her. "What's up, bikefaggot. I liiiike your triiiiike."

The light was still red.  

[LizzyMoo]

Her peripheral managed to catch sight of something pulling up next to her. From behind her helmet, she glanced over and in all honesty, she couldn't help but whistle. It was an impressive specimen of a Yamaha. If it wasn't for the last few nights, she might have been the one to rev the Spectrum's engine. Ellie did enjoy racing.

Stupid dream she mentally groused.

Her eyes drifted back to the light, and found that it was still red. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn't hear very well, thanks to the combined helmet and street noises, but it seemed as if the "bike f*****t" was completely ignoring the fratboys.

Come on green light...

The light finally decided to cooperate.

Ellie's bike shot out into the intersection, easily leaving the Skyline in her dust. In all honesty, it was one of the most satisfying feelings in the world to rush past another vehicle.

The girl continued to aimlessly ride around town, until she managed to catch sight of something that seemed interesting. It was a Yamaha. An '82 Yamaha Vision more specifically. And it was parked in the Quik-E-Mart parking lot.

She had nothing else better to do, so the girl leaned into the turn and entered the relatively dead shopping center. Without giving it a second thought, she parked herself near the other bike.  

[candy lamb]

She had been lounging there a couple of minutes when the motorbike's owner reappeared.

The bike's owner was a broad-shouldered Hispanic boy -- a little darker-skinned than Zuniga, who was her main point of comparison -- who had his helmet under one arm and a plastic bag in the other, obviously from the minimart. He did not appear to be put out that another biker was parked next to his Yamaha. In fact, all he did was set the bag down on his bike and take in the Spectrum with an interested eye. She hadn't taken off her helmet yet.

"Nice," he said. He dropped to his haunches to look at it, not touching -- that would have been a faux pas -- but looking her over, considering. "You race on this?"  

[LizzyMoo]

When you had a conversation, it was best to take off your helmet. That way, the sounds that were heard weren't muffled, and the words being spoken also weren't muffled. As the stranger knelt down to analyze her handiwork, the girl tugged off her helmet. Her blonde hair was even messier than usual after being stuff in a helmet this whole time. It wasn't like this guy was going to know the difference. Heck, it wasn't like Ellie really gave a damn about her hair to begin with.

With a grin spreading across her face, she pointed out her stance. "It would be an insult if I didn't race on'a bike like this." Casually, she tucked her helmet under her arm as she remained lounging on her own vehicle. Her eyes were quickly glancing over the other vehicle.

"Ya do yer own upkeep?" This guy's bike was nice to look at and all, but the real way to gain this tomboy's respect was to do the work yourself. There were those stupid wannabes out there who tried to look all bad a**, but then had to go to get maintenance done by professionals.  

[candy lamb]

The guy made a snorting sound: "I built her," he said, with quiet pride. "Nobody going to do upkeep if I d -- "

He glanced up at her, and blinked a couple times. "Huh," was all he said upon the realisation that he was a she, but also to his credit it was only that and a few moments until he went back to looking at what was important, i.e. her bike. That was a relief. Some other bikers used to make a big deal about it. The nicknames would come out. "Not all the original," he admitted, rising to his feet. "She was trash when I got her. Brakes were shot, you know?" She knew. "Bucked me off the road at speeds. But she ain't a track bike."

Which probably meant no racing. He folded his arms and leant back against a signpole -- PLEASE RETURN YOUR CART -- to give her a more cool once-over. It was an overly practiced cool once-over, but face to face she realised he wasn't that much older than she was. "Why'd you pick a MotoGP for city riding anyway? Cops are gonna grab you the moment you hit thirty next to a school."  

[LizzyMoo]

His explanation received a few respectful, silent nods. When given the chance to speak, she offered her opinion.

"That's th'only way t'do it. Good man!" Normally, she might have tossed in a shoulder clap too, but this guy seemed a bit different. He didn't seem like the type to appreciate random friendly gestures from some chick he just met.

Instead, she tapped the side of her vehicle with her fingers. "I didn't get a choice on th'frame, t'be honest. Dad picked up th'bike fer me, but it was jus' a husk. Had t'put it t'gether myself." Only her dad could get away with buying a partial bike and somehow make it the best birthday present ever. Musing back, she realized that it had been just a bit over 2 years ago.

"An' I don't ride it t'school," she added for slight clarification while hopping off her bike. She shifted her helmet from under her right arm to under her left arm, and held out her hand towards the hispanic boy.

"Name's Ellie Spectre. Ya got a name' or should I start callin' ya '82 Yamaha Vision?'"  

[candy lamb]

"She's got a name," he said. "She's Allison Lee." This pretty much told Ellie everything she wanted to know: his bike was a 'she' and it had a girl's name. Then again, so did hers. "I'm Jesse Alvarez."

They shook hands pretty cordially, though there was something a little guarded in his eyes as though he expected her to make fun of him. He set his helmet down on Miss Allison Lee herself as his interest was on her bike: now, having been introduced, he could touch the frame. Jesse gave her a walk-around, and when he got back he gave another terse nod of approval.

"It's got a rise," he said, apropos of nothing. "You find yourself sitting on it more than you sit in it?" Before she could reply to this he changed tack abruptly: "It's not a bad job."

The fatal words fell, though they both knew he was testing her when he added carelessly: "For a girl."  

[LizzyMoo]

As they shook hands, the tomboy also seemed a bit guarded, her grip firmer than the common place girl's would be. As their hands slipped away from each other, she added the ever so polite "Pleasure t'meet'cha both." She grinned before adding "Mine's more gender neutral... goes by 'The Spectrum.'"

Then Jesse continued his inspection. She had given the consent for him to touch, but it didn't mean she couldn't watch him like a hawk as he did so. He would have done the exact same if she was checking out Allison Lee.

All would have been well in the world if he hadn't said three little words. She actually made a point to turn to her bike and set her helmet down on the seat, turning back to face him as she began to crack the knuckles on her fingers. Those three little words were an easy way to stir up a negative reaction in this blonde. Her golden eyes looked into Jesse's apple green eyes as she then uttered "Dare ya t'say that again..."  

[candy lamb]

He had folded his arms across his chest. He was actually about an inch or so shorter than her: she was lankier, he was more solidly built. He also walked as though he were six-foot-five, so it was odd to see that he was shorter than her -- but a lot of guys were shorter than her. Ellie Specter, giving men all over Destiny City Napoleon complexes. Jesse leaned a little into her personal space.

"For," he said, enunciating like she was hard of hearing, "a. Girl."

This was a deliberate act of aggression, an incursion, not just a stupid thoughtless comment.  

[LizzyMoo]

The way Jesse presented the phrase initially might have been easily mistaken for stupidity. It was a given that many different people were, indeed, rather stupid. It would not have been Ellie's first encounter with an idiot. Yet, with the change in his stance, and the way he approached her, it was obvious that it was something different.

He was scrapping for a fight. It wasn't stupidity, it was a purposeful challenge. As the three words escaped his lips again, her own mouth curled into a rather large grin.

The last word escaped from Jesse's mouth, and the girl was already taking a swing for his face. It was one of the least guarded places on his body at the moment. All the tomboy hoped was that this guy at least knew how to throw some punches. That would make this fun!  

[candy lamb]

She got him low on the jaw. Valuable time had been lost due to the fact that his arms were in the wrong position, but it quickly became apparent that Jesse knew how to fight dirty -- Ellie Specter ensconced at Hillworth for a couple of years would have been able to fight back the same way, but as it was she was a girl and her life had not been She's The Man. Long years spent with Madison Heller, other competitor for the world's greatest tomboy, had also meant his reflexes were mostly the same when it came to fighting a girl -- one of his hands came up and window-washed her face, scrubbing into it before his fingers pressed down on her eyelids. She had to close her eyes automatically as he pushed back, her head jerking away, and at that point he tackled her.

Ellie was a mess of fists and knees, but she landed down hard on the concrete as he hiffed her from the midsection -- she smashed him hard across the face with a weighty right hook, but he was busy with kneeling her legs down so that she couldn't smash one into his groin. They were both bleeding a little, and as he pinned down one of her shoulders she could see him moving his jaw around gingerly to test it.

"Not bad," he admitted, with the comfort and grace of somebody who had won. At least he didn't follow this up with for a girl. He rolled off her, offering her a hand to get off the ground with. "You put your feet too close together. Too easy to knock you down." He was grinning. "If you were one of my boys I'd tell you the same, crazy person. Up?"  

[LizzyMoo]

Ellie had lost. Yet somehow, even after that tussle in the parking lot, she still had a grin on her face. She easily clapped her hand in Jesse's darker one and hoisted herself up, offering a simple "Thanks!" When she was back on her two feet, she leaned forward and dusted off her thighs, casually taking note of the scratches she'd eventually clean out. It was more of an "I'll get to it eventually" more than a dire need.

"Ya ain't so bad yerself," she commented, eyes flickering in his direction after finishing her self-inspection. Their two fighting styles were rather different. Ellie was a clean fighter, and she knew that was a shortcoming of hers. She'd never go below the belt. Maintaining such a philosophy, she could easily identify the opposite end of the spectrum without a hitch.

"Take it ya go t'Hillworth?" The tomboy asked this with a grin.  

[candy lamb]

The grin was dropped a bit for a scowl; he rolled his eyes to heaven. "What tipped you off?" he said, a bit aggressively. "The fighting? The bike. My lily-white a**." Lily-white was drawn out, the vowels beautifully rounded. Ellie had to learn one thing, apparently: Jesse was sort of defensive, and sort of a prima donna. His hackles were raised up like an angry dog's. When he was fighting, he'd been comparatively calm and amused. "What's it to you anyway?"

But it was hard when Ellie's expression held open, frank honesty and no maliciousness. It was also hard when Ellie dropped her gerunds worse than just about anybody who went to Hillworth and couldn't do -o next to -y. So he said: "Forget it," graciously, and: "Hillworth ain't a complete punk misfit factory, you know. I'm just special like that."  

[LizzyMoo]

"It was totally yer lily-white a**."

It didn't really seem to matter that he was getting worked up over what she felt was near-nothing. Never mind the fact she probably would have been pissed as all hell if someone didn't pick up on such cues if the roles were reversed. She still had a loose smile on her face, and she even dared to chuckle at his expense.

"Naw... it was jus' the way ya fight." Obviously her initial statement was just a joke. "And yeah, I've met a mix of guys from Hillworth." There was a lazy shrug tossed into the mix as she casually began to lean against her bike.

"I guess I'm just weird or somethin'... I find Hillworth guys interestin'..." She paused for maybe half a second, then added on "Oh, and I don't mean it in th'sappy 'I crush on all th'Hillworth guys' way... that's just corny!" Ellie didn't do crushes. Jesse could have probably figured that.

With that obnoxiously harmless grin still on her face, she then dared to push for more information. "So, ya got a story, or are ya gonna bite my head off fer askin'?"