Riding Out In Style

"There's this place nearby I'd like to go."

"Ok, that's a start. Assuming the place isn't an explosives factory, I'm willing to take you."

Once Rita has confirmed that she's not asking to go to an explosives factory, you hand the FPI employee your ID so she can get your details in the system. That way she can run a background check too, and warn Rita if anything about you seems off.

Of course that isn't the case, so she hands you your card back and wishes you a nice day. With this exciting girl with you, you're sure it'll be more than just nice. Honestly, she might be too much for you. "Hey Ash, are you coming too or will it be just us?"

"Why, are you hoping for a second chance at kissing me?" Your pal laughs. "You don't need me third-wheeling your date. Go live a little, and tell me all about it tomorrow."

"Yeah, ok. I'll talk to you later," you say as you leave the pet store and turn to Rita. "So how do we get to this mystery place of yours?"

"I keep my bike around back, come on."

"You want to go cycling?" That seems entirely too tame for this crazy chick. And it is; waiting for you in the small roofed-over parking lot behind the FPI building is not a bicycle, but a deathtrap of a motorcycle. It looks like someone built it in a backyard, then reassembled it by hand after driving it through a wall. Rita doesn't expect you to get on that thing does she?

She does, apparently. "Why are you looking at my bike like that? I fixed her up myself, she's very reliable. I wouldn't ride her here every day if she wasn't." She looks almost hurt, but you're not buying it. She knows your reaction is the reasonable one. But what's the point of living if you aren't willing to risk dying pointlessly in a horrific crash once in a while?

Gathering all the courage you have, you approach the machine like it's a wild horse that could start kicking at the slightest provocation. To take your mind off it you ask, "Don't you live here? Where do you go every day?"

Rita grins as she opens a compartment and pulls out two helmets. One is tossed to you, the other lands on her head after she takes off her ears and stows them safely. "Nah, I only spend my afternoons here. The rest of the time I'm at the workshop with my old man, or out and about. Hop on."

"Cool. So you're a mechanic's kid?" You sit on the bike behind Rita, unsure about where to put your hands until she guides them around her waist. You wonder if she even has a license, but don't ask.

"Don't be shy about holding on, it's for your safety. You'd feel real stupid if you fell off as soon as I gun it. And yeah, I love fixing shit and getting my hands greasy." Rita pulls up her tail, a slender reddish thing attached to the belt holding her skirt up, and wraps it around herself so it doesn't get in the way. You notice it even has a cute bow on the end, and compliment her on it.

After thanking you Rita revs the engine, and you clutch her sides before the motorcycle accelerates out of the lot. It's too loud to hold a conversation, so you just hold on and wait to see where she's taking you.

The answer to that question becomes apparent when the bike slows to a stop outside a building at the city outskirts, near the highway on-ramp. It looks clean, if somewhat disrepaired from the outside, but it's the sign above the door that draws your eyes.