As Dave had implied, the motorcycle was in good shape and went fast. Thus, they arrived at Monroe's rather quickly. The motor guttered and died, and Dave took off his helmet, twisting around to look at Keye again.

"You can let go now," he told the younger man good-naturedly, tapping Keye's hands around his waist and inwardly wondering just how bad he'd scared the poor kid.

He had tried to avoid doing any of the almost daredevil stuff that he normally did--and got away with--in favor of straight driving (is it called driving when you're on a motorbike?) and extra caution. Since Keye'd said he didn't like to go fast, after all.

((God, I suck at making up titles.))

Keye pried his death-grip off Dave's waist and staggered off the motorbike, thankful to be back on solid ground. He was a little pale, but did not seem to be otherwise troubled.
"Yeah...sorry...heh. N...nice bike."

"I take good care of her."

He led the way into the diner and surveyed the not-too-full little place. Turning to Keye, he asked, "Where d'you wanna sit? Table or booth?" Please note that he doesn't have any idea of Keye's self-esteem issues.

Dave isn't the kind of person to arbitrarily take charge of someone, unless he feels he needs to. A friendly meal means he doesn't need to.

"Wherever you feel like," Keye deferred immediately, "I don't care."
Submissive, isn't he?
He had his head turned slightly away, his eyes fixed on the ground. The message was clear: 'you're the boss.'

"C'mon, you've gotta decide something. I picked the restaurant, you pick the table. Fair's fair."

Keye'd better get used to making some kind of decisions--he's going to have to, sooner or later, if he's going to hang out with Dave much. Dave's just that kind of a guy.

It's going to be interesting when it's time to order, isn't it?

"Oh...it doesn't matter to me." His voice dropped, becoming nearly inaudible. "Th-th-that one there." he pointed to a booth at random.

Luckily, Keye can order for himself. But he has problems getting anything that costs more than three dollars.

Uh huh. Keye, someday you're going to have to work on these self-esteem issues of yours. It makes things difficult for the people who want to be nice to you.

'Course, it might not be the smartest thing in the world to be nice to Keye, considering that bit with the demon, but...

"Good-o," Dave grinned, as he jogged over and slid into the booth. "'member, my treat. Get whatever you want."

This is normal. Nice and normal. Just a dinner for a kid who lent him a hand.

Some people are so skewed that 'normal' is something far away, that you have to squint to even see. Keye is one of these.

He was quite hungry, but he mutely pointed to a salad.

"That's all you want?"

Dave, on the other hand, was ordering as big a mess of a meal as he could get off of this menu. Low carb diet? Never heard of it. Cut back on fat? Say what now? Dave eats a lot, and apparently he can get away with it.

Probably has something to do with all the running around he does, backstage.

"C'mon, kid, that wouldn't fill up a canary."

"I...I..." Keye flushed.
"I don't wanna be any trouble..."
Hesitantly, he jabbed his finger at soup...only slightly better.
If things keep up this way, we could be here all night.

Eyebrow. "You've gotta be kiddin' me. No wonder you're skinny."

This is slightly irritating. Only slightly, because he likes Keye, and it's obviously not something that's supposed to irritate.

"Haven't you ever heard of a hamburger?"

"...y-yes. I...I guess I could have one." He bit his lip.
"I guess."

"You on a diet or something? If anything, you could stand to gain a few pounds. Put some meat on that huge frame of yours, Scarecrow. Hamburger it is. Fries and a coke too, or am I pushin' it?"

Please note that the use of 'Scarecrow' is not at all a demeaning nickname. It is entirely friendly, much like he called Keye 'lifesaver' earlier. Dave nicknames people. He used to call Alexander Dr. B. The professor was not amused.

Well, Keye was hungry...and as Dave had been the one who suggested it, it was all right.
"Fries and a coke sounds fine," he replied, considerably more relaxed.

"Good. Wouldn't wanna have to forcefeed you."

Order placed, he leaned back in the booth and grinned at Keye.

"So, how're you doin' in Dr. B.'s class? He any easier than he was five years ago?"

"Huh? His class?"
College professor, remember?
"Oh. Um, well. I'm not in it. I don't go to school. Heh, so I dunno."

"How d'you know him, then?" Sheer, idle curiosity. "Thought he spent all his time up at Keaton, thinkin' up ways to torture his students."

And, just for the record, Alexander had not grown any easier since Dave took his class. If anything, he was harder. Or at least less mellow.

Age had not softened him, as it does with some.

"Bookstore. And he gave me a ride home."
And my eyeball got stabbed out, and oh, he slept over, and we had lunch at his place, and some weird chocolatey thing...
But he left all that out.

"Sweeeet. I've seen his car--don't think he'd have ever let me ride in it, though. Prob'ly would have zapped me with those x-ray eyes of his 'f I'd've even thought about it." Never mind that Dave has no idea that Alexander could probably actually 'zap' him, if he wanted to.

"It as nice inside as outside?"

"Yeah. It's nice inside too. All...well, I think it was leather upholstery."
Was. But then the blood and the theft...
"Heh. It wasn't a fun ride."
Dave is free to draw his own conclusions about that.

"Wouldn't think he'd be much company," Dave 'agreed.' After all, he can't imagine Alexander as anything other than the stern professor whose class he failed freshman year.

(He ended up with another English prof when he retook the course. Because the experience was one that he didn't particularly want to repeat.)

"He was pretty nice, actually."
Keye paused. No, that wasn't how it went. The niceness hadn't come until later.
"I mean, he wasn't mean..."

"He's only mean half the time. Rest of the time, he's cold and hard and pretty well a bastard. Saw girls cry when he scolded 'em for coming to class late." Of course, he'd often been on the receiving end of those scoldings as well...

Silly Dave.

Of course, he would probably be in shock if he heard about the actual niceness that came later...

"...huh."
He was still mulling that over when the food arrived. Conversation was, of course, suspended because...well, you know how he eats. He was too busy keeping his mouth as full as possible to talk. About three minutes and it was gone. All of it. And he was still contemplating Alexander's ability to yell at people for being...
Late. Now why is that ringing a bell?
In reference to the dinner, Keye said "Than..."
Study group. Oh my god.
"...ks. LookIgottagorightnowI'mgonnabelate!"
And he ran like the hounds of hell were after him. In actuality, it was Alexander Barclay that was before him, and he wasn't looking forward to one of those lectures.