<em>Crash, others, bar, beers</em><br/><br/>Once all those who wanted a beer, the prospect took his two and went back to his stool.  Ghost was right Crash need a sweet butt.  Any sweet butt would do but Danica would be his first choice.  He thought that it might be a problem if she goes old lady; that was something he'd deal with later.  He wasn't sure why he was stuck on her.  There was just something about Danica that made his engine rev.  He shrugged to himself as he popped the top of his bottle.  The golden liquid was refreshing.  It made most decision better and stupid ones great.<br/><br/>He looked up at the clock.  Time was flying by one tick at a time.  Being with his brothers and friends was a great way to get by most days.  The other days were saved for the roads.  The wind, the asphalt, and his bike were the prefect mix.   After these beers, Crash considered hopping back on his bike for another ride.  Shouldn't was a good day in doors, he thought.<br/><br/>The mention on a nomad made Crash glance over his shoulder.  He was sort of a nomad when he first showed up to Miami.  It took some time but he put down his roots and the club accepted him as he was....a broken man trying to find an normal existence once more.   All the bruises and scars were a part of him, and like him the club had them too.  Crash looked to Ingrid as she spoke.  His eyes followed her as she walked away.  A few more sips and his first beer was finished.<br/>