Work Text:
There's just one guy at the bar when Weevil walks in. Scrawny kid, red hair, nursing a Corona.
Weevil orders Tecate with lime.
"Nice ride," the guy says.
"Excuse me?" Weevil isn't used to strangers striking up conversation. Especially not since he got his neck inked.
"I used to be in a band with a guy who had a bike like that," he offers. "It's pretty sweet. I'd like one, someday. But for now I just drive a van."
"Whatever." Weevil takes a long pull on his beer. The guy isn't smiling at him, exactly, but there's something about him -- he feels friendly. Which could get him his ass kicked, if he's not careful.
"You're not from around here." It's not a question.
The guy shakes his head. "Sunnydale."
"Never heard of it. Look -- no offense, but you might want to find someplace else to drink."
"This seat reserved for somebody?" Dry.
"There's gonna be a whole lot of bikers here in about ten minutes, and things might get ugly. We have...matters to discuss. And it's full moon -- things can get pretty hairy, night of the full moon."
A cloud passes over the guy's eyes. "Yeah," he says. "I know."