Hermod quickly unzipped his jacket and threw it over the seat of his motorcycle. He looked at the now exposed engine in awe. It was just amazing what Philotes had done to the machine, at least from what he could see so far. He was going to really enjoy looking at this. And as a gentleman, he should return the favor.
“Go ahead and check it out,” he said to the goddess. “I thought about getting a Harley, but the Indian suits me better. Harley’s might be fast but they are big, heavy and loud. They have bigger engines, but this smaller one is up for more tweaking. And the guy that guards Asgard would never let me have a bike that loud on his bridge. Heimdall would shit a brick.”
He chuckled at that thought as he looked at the car’s engine. He was half way through inspecting the carburetor before he realized that he hadn’t blushed or stammered once while talking about the motorcycles. There had to be a way for him to use that next time he was around a woman. Hermod had a feeling that it just would not work. Women just made him way too nervous.
“Don’t worry about the talking, I kind of stammer when I get nervous,” he said, hoping to put her at ease a bit. “You should meet my brother, Vidar. What kind of fuel are you using? Special blend? I’ve got a higher octane mix that I use.”