[Like something cut at the root he feels...deadened. Apathetic. A withering of the violence that normally would beat in time with his heart, his blood. He opens his mouth for a moment as a means to inhale when the bridge of his nose feels swollen and shattered, flexing his jaw, setting his teeth-- and then he's upright, walking steadily towards the bike as if nothing at all had ever happened. As if neither of them were coated in mud and soaked through with rain.
Between them both, he is the less physically damaged.] Get on.
[One tight pull of his wrist and the engine yet again hums to life.] I'll drive.
no subject
Between them both, he is the less physically damaged.] Get on.
[One tight pull of his wrist and the engine yet again hums to life.] I'll drive.