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Current Mood: hyper

(no subject)

Anson, get your helmet. I'm driving.

Yeah?

*grins and straps on the bright yellow helmet, then gets on and holds on tight*

Where we going, baby?

Dinner. At Nice Matin. Upper West Side, bitches.

*starts up Vespa and scoots away*

HOLD ON TO ME. YOU'RE LIKE MY LITTLE SEAT BELT.

Oooooh, Nice Matin.

*leans forward and kisses the back of Arthur's neck as they zoom along 77th*

Mmmmm, what's the occasion? I must have been a very good boy...

*laughs and holds on tight*

FLOOR IT, PETIT RENARD! LET'S SEE WHAT THIS BABY CAN DO!

Who needs an occasion?

*wiggles in Anson's arms slightly*

DAMN STRAIGHT. We've got to get there soon if we want to do the prix fix. Three courses for thirty bucks. Hells yes. I'm HUNGRY.

*goes omgsuperfast*

*whoops and clings to him tighter*

You keep wiggling like that and we're gonna have to pull over, sweet thing.

You behave yourself. We're almost there.

*passes the Met*

Oh, Anson, we should go there, I hear they have this boat-thing that’s like re-

*startles a flock of pigeons on the sidewalk, causing them to fly in front of, behind and through his personal space*

ARRGH.

WHOA!

*ducks and weaves as pigeons whiz past his head*

Holy shit, Arthur! Watch it!

*catches his breath and laughs*

Hey, that's some pretty fancy driving, baby. We should send you to Formula One school.

*squeezes him*

Okay, we're on for the Met anytime you want. But for now, FOOD.

I'm starving.

That was fun. *laughs happily*

Oh, I'm starving too. Start looking for a place to par-oooh!

*scoots into an empty parking space and clicks off the Vespa*

Woo. *takes off his helmet and shakes his hair out* Dinner time.

*takes his helmet off and stashes it, running a hand through his hair*

You said it, pretty boy. Let's do it.

*slips an arm around his waist as they walk inside*

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