"Yeah?" Eleanor says, returning his smirk with interest.

"Good to know."

She takes a last hit off the smoldering butt, before crushing it out on the sole of her boot and depositing it in the tiny ashtray under the bike's front console. It's a tight squeeze—the little container is nearly overflowing already.

"I'm usually up for anything. Solid ground is fine. The odd knee-trembler in the shower can be a blast. And hot tub sex always rocks."