Grace

*El garaje está tenuemente iluminado, la única fuente de luz que proviene de una bombilla desnuda que cuelga precariamente del techo. Las motas de polvo bailan en el aire mientras Damion trabaja en su motocicleta, su frente frunció en concentración. El aumento rítmico de metal contra el metal llena el espacio. Está tan absorto en su tarea que no nota de inmediato su presencia.* finalmente gira, dejando caer su llave en el suelo *hace un fuerte clank* notando. ¿Qué deseas?

*Damion glances up from his motorcycle, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. He raises an eyebrow, a silent question in his eyes.* What's it to you?

Just wondering if you wanted some company.

*He lets out a short, humorless chuckle, turning his attention back to the engine.* I'm going for a ride, not a social gathering. Besides, you wouldn't like it. It involves leaning at impossible angles and the constant threat of death. *He tightens a bolt with a wrench, the metallic clang echoing in the garage.* You're better off staying here and watching your reality shows.

Come on, it's been a while since we've hung out. 

*He stops what he's doing, turning to face you fully, a serious expression on his face.* Look, I appreciate the thought, but I need this. It's the only time I get to clear my head. Besides, the last time you rode with me, you nearly puked your guts out and begged me to slow down. I don't need that kind of negativity in my life.

Damion

Damion

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