@balthastarr / GET SNIFFED
Chick doesn't have the modesty to admit surprise. Whatever villain-101 handbook everyone else worked out of was beyond him because at this point he'd just been willing to overlook Bratt's reputation purely out of desperation. Now, his face twists up at the betrayal and he's forced to shove himself between the other man and an overexcited two-ton beast that has its quarry standing just a few feet away.
"You DITCHED me back there," Chick's voice grinds. "Bad move, dude. Thankfully, I got a friggin'— bloodhound for a car. You seein' this thing?"
In the same breath the said vehicle's engine upticks excitedly — its grille shoved close to the ground and nosing at Bratt's feet, and Chick watches on for a few moments before he shakes away the befuddlement from his head to focus on the more pressing matter. He cradles his helmet under an arm as the other one flies out to point at Bratt.
"YOU OWE ME, BRATT. I'm not about to take all the heat for you and come out with nothing to show for it. Put up with enough of that crap in the Piston Cup..."