[ Well-traveled is a string V's very firmly got to his bow, but not in the well-cultured, anointed in affluence kind of way. Life on the road had been all he'd known, up 'til Night City, and he's spent longer amongst the corpo-infected metal and concrete now than he has in any other single place. The suffocation of the skyline, choked with highrises and altars built to commercialism, was a necessary evil to suffer to make a name for himself. Now he's not so sure.
Still he finds himself trying to escape the hustle and bustle every opportunity he can get; a pilgrimage to something more simple, to release the pressure that builds feeling hemmed in and claustrophobic. Somewhere high up, removed from it all, where he's closer to the freedom the sky promises with wide, open arms.
Any insensitivity is taken in his stride, smile dipping just a little into something more relaxed. It's familiar now, this back and forth, and Johnny's sharp-edged running commentary is a strange kind of pillar in his days and nights, now. ]
You ever ride with nomads before?
[ He's never asked outright, but he's guessing not. Technically, Johnny rides with a nomad every day, but that's not what V means and they both know that. Freedom means everything to V; there's a reason he's a solo, not a gangoon. A reason he gravitates towards bikes over cars, like he wants to surrender himself to the elements over and over. Whipping wind, driving rain. Heat of the sun in the sky and the bitter chill biting into his bones.
Freedom means everything to Johnny too, and maybe before all of this is over, either way, V will understand it as fully as he wants to. Gaze dragged from the picture-perfect vista, his head twists just enough to catch the other man's profile in his periphery. Still no flickering, not that he's noticed, and his curiosity is building at a steady enough pace. ]
no subject
Still he finds himself trying to escape the hustle and bustle every opportunity he can get; a pilgrimage to something more simple, to release the pressure that builds feeling hemmed in and claustrophobic. Somewhere high up, removed from it all, where he's closer to the freedom the sky promises with wide, open arms.
Any insensitivity is taken in his stride, smile dipping just a little into something more relaxed. It's familiar now, this back and forth, and Johnny's sharp-edged running commentary is a strange kind of pillar in his days and nights, now. ]
You ever ride with nomads before?
[ He's never asked outright, but he's guessing not. Technically, Johnny rides with a nomad every day, but that's not what V means and they both know that. Freedom means everything to V; there's a reason he's a solo, not a gangoon. A reason he gravitates towards bikes over cars, like he wants to surrender himself to the elements over and over. Whipping wind, driving rain. Heat of the sun in the sky and the bitter chill biting into his bones.
Freedom means everything to Johnny too, and maybe before all of this is over, either way, V will understand it as fully as he wants to. Gaze dragged from the picture-perfect vista, his head twists just enough to catch the other man's profile in his periphery. Still no flickering, not that he's noticed, and his curiosity is building at a steady enough pace. ]