Motorcycle Lesson
Who: Frodo and Hawke What: Motorcycle Lesson. Good chance it will end as pictured. When: Back on Monday. Morning-ish? (Before new dreams.) Where: Wide Open Spaces Status: In Progress Rating: PG? (Well update if Frodo starts swearing like a sailor for no particular reason.)
It was rather embarrassing, having to be driven to his motorcycle lesson, which was why Frodo arrived at the appointed place with ample time beforehand. The Harley had been carted in the bed of a truck, which his chauffeur apparently had access to. It certainly didn't belong to Frodo. He arranged for the driver to wait at a nearby by roadside diner: within a phone call's distance, but out of sight, and gave him some extra money for his trouble. It was not entirely unlike a teenager being dropped off by his mother at a school dance.
Now, he would spend a good while waiting. He and the motorcycle were positioned by the side of the road, looking incongruous with one another. He had all the necessary equipment, even a leather jacket, but it was far more fashionable than practical. The Harley's lone headlight stared him down like an judgmental, unblinking eye. You're a fool, Frodo Baggins, if you think you can ride me, it purred, husky-voiced and feminine.