whiskey, smoke and aces high

It's too bad. When did it get cool to be so sad? We're spinnin' backwards, did we all go mad?
Yeah, we're only human but w?'ve got hands and hearts and noses,
So stop and sm?ll the fucking roses

Remi's smile is stupidly thrilled to hear Ronin say so, as he accepts the helmet with bashful green eyes that are once again finding it difficult to meet Ronin's. "Oh, don't say that." The musician chuckles with a shake of his head. "I didn't think you were all that awkward."

Grinning, his brow raising a touch at that, Remi tries and fails to put his helmet on with any modicum of style. 'By dawn, mm?' His tone is vaguely skeptical, though not at all believably so. Where Ronin hears him or not he has no idea, because suddenly he feels like he's about to be launched into space such is the feeling of the helmet.

There's no way of getting on that Remi can see, that doesn't involve just reaching out for Ronin. It's a shame there's so much leather between them, because as Remi throws a leg over the bike and finds himself fitting against the man before him, it all but feels like he's holding onto a padding crash-test dummy. "Ahh, cazzo!" With a start, Remi flinches as Ronin's voice screams into the headset. "Not that I am not a fan of your accent, but how do I turn you down?"

ThE RoCkStAr