House gives the bookie a glance that's more warning than apology. He hadn't expected the race to be now, but he hadn't been fucking around and he meant to offer the challenge and make good on it. So now worked.

He moves as quickly as he can to where his own restored bike is parked, annoyed that he can't keep up with a woman in heels. His own motorcycle is parked in a handicapped spot.

He lifts his eyes to her. "Looks like we have more in common than I thought. Lucky you." The deadpan of his voice makes it clear that he isn't exactly complimenting her, but it's certainly not phrased like an insult, either. "There's a pretty straight stretch of highway that runs along the beaches. But we might have to swear at some idiot pedestrians."