She doesn't slow her pace, even though she notices his limp, the uneven gait that has him struggling to keep up. The thing is, slowing down would be toeing a line, she thinks. Maybe he doesn't want the sympathy. Maybe it'd ring too much like pity for his taste. Better to err on the side of being a bitch than to ruin someone's pride, even if Faye still thinks that pride isn't worth its weight in salt.
But she does stop by what must be his bike, parked in a handicapped spot, leaning against it briefly and patting the seat.
"At least with a bike like this one, as long as you handle it right, yelling at pedestrians should be enough. I like it. You've got decent taste." Pushing herself off, she walks towards where her own bike is parked, a small little red thing a few spaces down. "I think the bigger question is who the police would let off easy, an old man or a pretty girl?"
Grinning, she swings her leg over her bike, not quite reckless enough to forego the helmet.
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Date: 2013-09-08 03:17 am (UTC)But she does stop by what must be his bike, parked in a handicapped spot, leaning against it briefly and patting the seat.
"At least with a bike like this one, as long as you handle it right, yelling at pedestrians should be enough. I like it. You've got decent taste." Pushing herself off, she walks towards where her own bike is parked, a small little red thing a few spaces down. "I think the bigger question is who the police would let off easy, an old man or a pretty girl?"
Grinning, she swings her leg over her bike, not quite reckless enough to forego the helmet.