Disclaimer: Good Omens and all the wonderful beings within do not belong to me. They belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, or vice versa... depends on which version of the cover you're looking at. No profit is being made, alas, I'm just having fun.
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"I'm jealous of your bicycle," Newt said suddenly. Anathema glanced over at him. She was fixing one of Phaeton's tires. The small repair kit she'd found was very useful, though Anathema didn't really remember how she'd come by it.
"Why?"
"You ride him all the time," Newt said, grinning foolishly. He felt he was being rather clever.
Anathema slapped him, and then relented. The mark faded quickly.
"Would you like a ride, then?" she asked, with a smirk of her own.
Newt was shocked. "It's a little early, don't you think?"
Anathema slapped him again. "Not that kind of ride."
(Newt was not very good at steering, especially when Anathema sat on the handlebars and he couldn't see.
Anathema couldn't balance, either, when Newt stood on the back with his hands on her shoulders. He tended to lean forward too much and caused them to topple over.
They agreed that it was a lost cause, after a few tries, and went inside.)