Walking over to his motorcycle, Faelan ran his hand down the bike's length, feeling the cold metal and real leather seats. The paint was a beautiful white color, the seat a beautiful genuine black leather. The metal all seemed to glimmer the same metallic silver as the day he got it. He'd hid it away, a small little alleyway behind their apartment that no one seemed to use. It stayed in wonderful condition, the building provided a wonderful cover.<br/><br/>"It's called a Harley. Probably the best way to get women to pay attention to you. Ironically enough, I didn't get it for the looks, but the practicality of how compact a motorcycle is compared to a car."<br/><br/>Although he wasn't exactly a bike enthusiast, he knew Harley was one of the top notch companies, and the way it ran was divine. Pulling his leg over, he slid into the seat, and looked back at Shula.<br/><br/>"Go ahead, hop on. Hold on though, this thing isn't going to hold you like a car."