Desmond scooted forward as much as he could, but it still left the other man almost flush against him. He wasn't used to giving people lifts, but there's a first time for everything, huh?

"It should be a short ride," he promised. "Just direct me as I go. And lift your feet."

The motorcycle roared to life under them, Desmond giving the handle a turn. It revved up, and Desmond hoisted his feet up, taking off. He loved this sensation - the feeling of being free, the wind on his face, the raw speed of driving.

It was better without a sarcastic Brit sitting behind him, though.