blacktop mile
who: @codie-mohren
Spring's here - you can tell because it doesn't fucking hurt to stand outside.
And there's trouble brewing. Avi Hassim is leading Harford and Yuisa Echevarria is leading Warwick. It's coke for a brewing fight that's still in its cold stages, but the old understandings that kept Warwicks' fangs behind its muzzle are fraying, and it shows.
Blacktop mile is active at night, and people are showing off. Cars, bikes. It's an almost impromptu block party, and the fucking cops know not to come down here - especially when the Echevarrias are involved - because then sometimes the cops don't make pension.
She doesn't normally indulge in this pissing-match bullshit. She trusts Warwick blood to keep cool - flared tempers are for mongrels. But she's got beads on names and one of those names is here.
Yuisa's talking with some old-head biker about her R 18, defending it because the vintage R 18s look like fucking legos and there's nothing wrong with the sexy curves of modernity when she sees that name, and she finishes her talk, dismissing dude with with a tight squeeze and moves up on Codie Mohren, rolling the bike up to the curb beside her, yanks her helmet off, and holds it out to her.
"Hey, pizza-shop girl," she calls over the roarious purr of the engine. "You got a second? Hop on."











