Thread: The Good, the Bad, and the Fast (Sparxman and driven)

If she really listened to the rational side of herself, Roslyn knew there would have been nothing wrong with her car. Perhaps a scratch or two if the lot employees had been careless something she would've dealt with in the least appropriate way possible, but she had figured - or simply hoped - that it was fine. Needless to say, it was still a relief to hear that it was. Not to mention she was getting that much closer to being behind the wheel once more. Roslyn had to bite her tongue hard to restrain the smart-assed comment that attempted to lash out at him as her gaze hardened. It was a cliche she had probably heard one too many times, but that didn't make it any less true her car was her baby - her child . She had worked and saved to make the initial purchase and worked some more to modify it to where it was then. She knew every inch of that car inside and out, up and down, backwards and forwards, and any other directional pattern...blindfolded. She trusted very few people to actually work on it and even less to drive it. She would wrestle him to the floor for her keys before letting him drive it without earning her trust. Rational? Probably not. But it was difficult to explain the relationship a person like her had with her car. There was that pride yet again so quickly replacing her sharp-tongued temper and helping her move on. Her brow quirked slightly as he continued, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Hey, now, it's not all power. Skill helped me escape more than power. They should really train these guys better to handle road chases if they ever hope to catch anyone with any kind of skill. She paused and her expression deadpanned before she sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck. She certainly couldn't be talking considering her situation. ...at least ones that don't make stupid mistakes. His comment about the older Mustangs caused her head to tilt somewhat curiously. Well, yeah, the classics are the classics and are pretty hard to beat, I can't argue there. I just haven't had the joys of finding a classic...yet, her eyes sparkled mischievously. She still had any number of goals set for herself, and restoring a classic car was high on her list of things to do. If only she had the money to afford one that was salvageable. Her hands folded comfortable on the table, thumbs twiddling with one another absently as their conversation continued. Her eyes were steadily leveled on his as he elaborated further on the group they were dealing with. A ball of dread tightened in the pit of her stomach, turning and churning anxiously. She really hoped she wasn't getting in over her head. Granted, it was a little late to back out, but, Jesus, if all of that was true? She could step on someone's toes and find herself in serious trouble. But then again, wasn't that what he was for? She just kept reminding herself of one thing all she really needed to do was drift. They couldn't do anything to her if they couldn't catch her. Nonetheless, her lips had pursed and her brow furrowed in thought, leaving a moment of silence between them after his question. She finally managed to nod curtly. Yeah, I've got an idea what we're dealing with, she affirmed out loud but said nothing more on the matter. She would deal with it like she had dealt with everything else. She felt her mood lighten considerably when even the FBI agent referred to Deputy Douche as a pain in the ass. So it wasn't just her! She sat back in her chair, stretched her legs out beneath the table in front of her and crossed them at the ankles once more to settle in and listen to his plan. She mulled it over for a little while, her expression neutral as she considered it. She eventually shrugged. That should probably work. We became racing buddies and maybe the guy we heard about the event from overheard me talking about wanting to get involved in drifting or something and that's why he told us about the event. And then we don't need to worry about explaining him any further if they get suspicious of us for whatever reason and start asking just another guy at the track, she thought aloud. And it still works to my advantage for the story that I just moved here and hadn't heard of it yet. She found herself smirking slightly once more. Although if we're going to pretend to be friends, you're gonna have to call me Roz or Lyn or some other nickname. Pretty much no one uses my full name.