Why I feel this way about our love...
The cycle's trashed. It barely made it back, in fact, technically it didn't. It dropped down about a mile south of our HQ. Normally, I'd just fly. Chicks dig the flying thing. But Mr. My-Motorcycle-Is-Burning-Oil-and-Not-Armed Lobo is putting a damper on that plan. He came up with a solution and it's one I never would have thought of.
The Max rides again. Pretty spiffy too. We just hit that big ol' button for hyper speed and kick it into plaid . We're cruising baby, in style. Lobo's piloting and I probably should be getting the game plan together, but so far it simply boils down to a lot of fighting, which annoys me cause I know I can do better than that.
"Didn't think you had the guts to stay in it and frag 'em to the end," Lobo says.
He would have stayed, if he had a choice. Second round he went flying through the air, hitting soldiers, and going through a few walls that by the time we found him we were already ready to retreat. Unconsciousness does not a stubborn teammate make. I think he's going simply cause he missed out on the action, either way it helps my odds.
So, they aren't really my odds. They're Suzie's and Bart's. They're Anita's and Cassie's. And honestly it doesn't look good. We need a strategy and maybe some well time pre-informed cavalry. We'll see if Rob makes the call.
"Never woulda figgered you fer a romantic," Lobo criticizes. Only he could insult love.
So I insult back. "I could say the same thing about you and Anita."
"She's an interesting one, I'll give her that. She's got this dark side, and man, is it great!"
I let the conversation die right there because I'm sure I don't want to know.
"'Nita's one in a million you know," he asserts.
"Cassie's one of a kind."