[Maxima will accept the helmet, and examine the bike a bit before putting it on. Obviously it's not a model he's familiar with, being a civilian vehicle from a different world, but the convergent evolution of designs with the same purpose makes it easy enough to spot the footrests and handholds. He puts the helmet on while Lighter finds his seat, and settles in behind him.
Immediately he spots one minor issue, which is that very little in this world is made with people as tall as he is in mind. He can reach the handholds, but riding for any significant distance while gripping both of them is going to kill his back. The obvious solution is temptation itself, one he's only too willing to give in to: he holds only one of the handles, for stability and to make sure he isn't putting too much weight on the driver, and leans forward against Lighter's back, wrapping the other arm securely around his waist.
He doesn't end up taking in much of the scenery as they go, most of his attention taken up with the warmth of another body pressed against his own and hoping that his rushing pulse isn't somehow audible. Until recently, he'd been without simple touch for so long that he usually forgot to miss it, but in the last few months he's started making up for lost time.
When they arrive, he doesn't show any hesitation at the entrance; there's actually something like nostalgia and recognition on his face as they come to the door, and any remaining tension bleeds out of him at the dark interior with its rainbow lighting. The meaning of the rainbow is unique to this world, and the place that lingers in his memories was always filled with smoke, but even so this is familiar ground, almost painfully so. Perhaps some things really don't change from world to world.]
Thank you. [Even if the night ended here, he'd really be beyond grateful just to have been brought here at all. Lighter's joke gets an appreciative chuckle, though.] It seems like we have some tastes in common.
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Immediately he spots one minor issue, which is that very little in this world is made with people as tall as he is in mind. He can reach the handholds, but riding for any significant distance while gripping both of them is going to kill his back. The obvious solution is temptation itself, one he's only too willing to give in to: he holds only one of the handles, for stability and to make sure he isn't putting too much weight on the driver, and leans forward against Lighter's back, wrapping the other arm securely around his waist.
He doesn't end up taking in much of the scenery as they go, most of his attention taken up with the warmth of another body pressed against his own and hoping that his rushing pulse isn't somehow audible. Until recently, he'd been without simple touch for so long that he usually forgot to miss it, but in the last few months he's started making up for lost time.
When they arrive, he doesn't show any hesitation at the entrance; there's actually something like nostalgia and recognition on his face as they come to the door, and any remaining tension bleeds out of him at the dark interior with its rainbow lighting. The meaning of the rainbow is unique to this world, and the place that lingers in his memories was always filled with smoke, but even so this is familiar ground, almost painfully so. Perhaps some things really don't change from world to world.]
Thank you. [Even if the night ended here, he'd really be beyond grateful just to have been brought here at all. Lighter's joke gets an appreciative chuckle, though.] It seems like we have some tastes in common.