A man had a tendency to be late when he was trying to transport a large number of weapons while on a motorcycle, but at least it wasn't the first time he'd ever done so, and he more or less knew how to make it look totally innocent - like a guy on a bike with a giant black duffle bag on his back could look innocent. The worst part of it was trying to figure out what to bring along with him. If he was going to properly educate Effie in the way of weapons, then he couldn't just bring any old weapon. At the same time he didn't think a grenade-launcher was appropriate for a shooting range.
As he pulled up the bike purred to a halt next to the pickup and Wade kicked the stand down with the heel of his boot, and pulled his helmet off to chuck it in the bed of the pickup. "I'm not even going to ask where you got all that," he said, hooking a thumb in the direction of the boxes, "but you've gotta give me their number." He dismounted, struggled the bag off his back and down on the ground near Effie's feet, then ruffled her hair, grinning while he did. "Lookit you, all grown up and shootin stuff," he cooed, mock-wiping his eyes. "So proud. So proud."