Survival Of The Fittest

He bent down and picked up the keys from under the wheel. Clever place to put them, especially without pockets, but not entirley without risk. Especially since the car was an expensive Mercedes, and by expensive, he meant that the car had probably costed more money than some families saw in a year. It was ludicrously flashy and had a lot of built in features, half of which he was pretty sure had never been bought.

He swung open the car door before awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "I've got the Challenger to drive I'm afraid... As much as I'd like to drive the Merc, I can't just abandon her here." He thought for a moment, trying to work out a solution. "My house is closer, and Mark and Carrie are in Pheonix for a few days, so there's zero chance of us disturbing them." He used the first names for his maternal uncle and aunt, as he did every day. It annoyed them, and despite the pettiness it gave him a small amount of perverse pleasure to get his kicks in for being stranded in the middle of nowhere.

"I'll follow you from behind, don't worry. Take all the time you need, alright?" With that, he walked back into the night and towards the Challenger, the car keys already in his hands. Whilst the Merc was a beauty of German engineering, the Challenger was the love child of the bastard coupling of a F1 car and... Whatever shared a design with it. It was obnoxiously loud, ridiculously fuel inefficient compared to most modern cars, and tended to go through tyres faster than a Irishman through pints.

Because of this, one would expect it to be the exact kind of car Will would hate. Loud, brash, wasteful and American. However something about the ridiculously throaty growl that was emitted from the engine, so much meatier than the soft purring you got from so many modern cars appealed to him greatly. It was probably the testosterone coming through. It was, after all a gloriously manly car, and he would be severely disappointed should his driving privileges for it be taken away.

Engine on, handbrake on, idling on. All that was left would be for him to wait for Rea to be ready, and they could leave this rather boring excuse for a dance.

((These double posts...))

Here it was at last. Rea pulled into Will's house's driveway, and stepped out of her car. Will's car pulled up behind her own. Rea loved him, but bloody hell that car was horrible. It was like a personification of everything she hated about America. It was loud. It was obnoxious. It guzzled gas, and made the ozone layer cry with each turn of its wheels. But disliking a car was a small price to pay to have her beloved Will at her side.

Even if he was taking his sweet bloody time getting to the front door of his house to unlock it for her.

"Come on, Will. I'm freezing to death out here."

((Rea Adams, continued elsewhere))

He chuckled as Rea exaggerated rubbing her arms. No doubt she was actually cold, but that was a little over the top, wasn't it? He quickly killed the engine and stepped out of the car, making sure to lock it behind him before jogging to the obnoxiously large pebbled glass door that the house had.

A turn of the key later, and he was home, wonderully warm and bathed in light. Rea would probably appreciate the light more, but growing up in what was basically the border into the highlands had made him appreciate warmth a hell of a lot. Apart from the boiling you got during the summer, the weather was one thing he could largely get behind.

First things first though, get out of the three-peice suit and change into something somewhat comfortable.

((Will McKinley continued elsewhere))