shatterverse | (no subject)

Almost immediately, there's another flash and a bang behind him, followed by the throaty roar of a 1795cc V-twin engine closing fast. Out of the ether pops a girl in black on a sleek retro-look motorbike of the same color—a Honda VTX (http://powersports.honda.com/images/model/model_images/motorcycles/2008/large/VTX1800N1.jpg) to be specific. Her face is shielded by the visor of a crash helmet, but, judging by the amount of cleavage on display, it's definitely a female at the helm. And she's just as disoriented as Jamie was after his sudden displacement. Not an ideal state of affairs when you're driving down a two-lane highway at 60 mph.

Behind the visor, blue eyes grow large as they regain focus and spot the solitary man ahead.

"What the f—"

She doesn't have time to wonder where the hell he came from. He's walking in the middle of the right lane. Her lane! Instinctively, she sounds the horn and swerves desperately to try and avoid him. Tires screech, bleeding long streaks of rubber onto the tarmac, and the bike and its rider skid across the road towards the opposite shoulder.

The road is hard under his feet, like stone but not, and the kind of black he normally associates with charred wood. Jamie prefers the soft soil on either side, but finds himself making brief forays onto the firm, brightly marked path to puzzle again at its inflexibility.

He's devoting all of his thought power to the strange substance just barely crunching every time he brings his foot down, when a piercing noise interrupts and a blur of black moving faster than one of his mother's war horses goes barreling by on its side, sliding into a ditch.

An acrid odor wafts past his nostrils, making him frown as he sniffs.

There'd been a figure wrapped around something loud and powerful lost in all that black, he thinks. And a shout. Jamie crosses the road without looking in either direction and peers into the ditch. Man-made, most likely, as well as muddy, though a few tenacious weeds cling to the side. Nature always finds a way back in, if left to its own devices.

"Hello?" Jamie calls, crouching down to see under the dissipating smoke.

Ah. It's a female.

Make that a woman.

Fortunately for all concerned, the accident has only bestowed a few scratches to the motorcyle's chrome and a few bumps and bruises on its owner. After quickly taking stock of this outcome, said owner hauls herself out from under the bike's frame and starts storming back up the short embankment.

A few paces into her rampage she tears off her helmet and hurls it into the grass, revealing a furious expression and a shock of golden blonde hair. Even in anger, her features are dangerously attractive, like a pretty-colored cocktail that contains lethal amounts of alcohol. You know it's going to knock you on your ass, but you drink it anyway, because it looks good and tastes even better.

"Are you fucking insane?" the woman yells. "Or just retarded?"

She walks right up to him, until their chests are actually touching, and sets the full force of her glare on him.

"I could have been killed, asshole!"

She's impressive, all right, like nothing Jamie has experienced or seen before. He watches her rage with pleasure, smiling faintly. It's as if she's the punchline to a joke he doesn't quite get, but will find hilarious and repeat faithfully at parties once he works it out.

Unfortunately for her, the glare doesn't intimidate him one bit. The smirk stays, just curving his full mouth, and eyes that are more green than blue today look down into hers from his higher vantage point.

Jamie leans in, watching. "But you weren't," he points out. His voice is clear and deep, a note of relaxed humor suggesting he finds the situation funny. "I'm glad." Beat. "Perhaps you can tell me what material makes up the road?"

Accusations of insanity are an old hat in his family, anyway.

His reaction is... unexpected. His unfazed demeanor doesn't do anything to dampen her fiery rage, and his gentle flirtation and all round amusement just serve to fuel it. She's half a second away from taking a swing at him when he poses his question. Her glare becomes an incredulous stare.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

No longer completely blinded by fury, she actually absorbs the guy's face and his somewhat out-of-place rustic garb. And that's when it hits her.

"...Jamie? Jamie Young?"

Still staring, she takes a step backwards to get a better perspective.