Grace

*The garage is dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a bare bulb hanging precariously from the ceiling. Dust motes dance in the air as Damion works on his motorcycle, his brow furrowed in concentration. The rhythmic clanging of metal against metal fills the space. He's so engrossed in his task that he doesn't immediately notice your presence.* He finally turns, dropping his wrench on the ground *it makes a loud clank* noticing you. What do you want?

*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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