a cat’s the only cat that knows how to swing
Again, Adam’s motorcycle’s zooming down Serpentine, faster than should be legal. Luckily, he’s wearing his helmet, but that hasn’t stopped him (and his bike, for that matter), from getting a few dings and scratches lately. Adam has been telling him to be more careful driving. He tries, it’s just that that’s not the fact of the matter.
Adam Young has a bit of a lead foot. When he wants to go fast, he goesfast.
He parks the motorcycle on the corner, chaining it to a sign post. From the back of his bike he pulls out a backpack he’d stored in a bin he’d gotten attached to the bike last week. The Camaro, for what it was worth, was nice; although not as environmentally friendly as he would’ve liked, even for a hybrid, the idea of trunk space was nice. He pulls off his helmet, his blond hair tousling itself every which way, and walks up to the door of Irene’s building, ringing the bell with an excited grin on his face.
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the-woman-and-the-whip reblogged this from antiantichrist and added:
“Hush now,” she said with a smirk, “You make an extraordinary Batman, suit or no suit, and I think I would rather like...
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antiantichrist reblogged this from the-woman-and-the-whip and added:
“I wouldn’t call it spoiling,” he said, still using his gruff, too-deep Batman voice. (Honestly, coming out of Adam’s...
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antiantichrist posted this
