Shadow of You Former Self

[once_and_future_king]

 Dolan had been having dreams for months, ever since his bike accident.  They were not always the same setting, but there were reoccurring figures that kept popping up at every passing turn.  He tried to drink each nightmare away with a few piggy backing pints and for awhile, they would go away only to return again in fire or in ice.

After one very bad nightmare where his blood spilled across the snow and the warm breath of a person he loved hit his cheek and spoke about eagles , Dolan headed out of his London flat, grabbed the helmet from the coat rack and headed to where his new bike was parked. It was a normal evening on London's busy streets save for one thing....passing a corner he saw someone that looked....familiar. 

Very familiar. Even if he had never seen him before while awake. 

Dolan an ended up nearly crashing again as he turned to follow him. 

Comments

because every lovecraftian adventure needs a professor

[erudio]

Benjamin Baggins had always lived a quiet, normal life, and he was happy for that. In his youth he had been adventurous, even wild, but the death of his parents had forced him to grow up quickly, and those days were now little more than fond memories. He had found his adventures in books instead, and his passion for knowledge had led him happily through life. History had always been his strongest suit, and while earlier in life he had enjoyed his work at the Museum of London, he had eventually felt compelled to teach; and so it had been that for the last ten years Professor Baggins had imparted his knowledge on the students of King's College. The job also gave him time to pursue research of his own, studying stranger history, investigating the odd occurrences that dotted through time. It was the sort of studying most folk found a bit queer, and so, like many parts of his life, Ben kept that to himself.

His life had for a long time been quite comfortable, though recently he had found himself troubled by nightmares. At first, he had thought little of them, chalking them up to the stress of coming upon tenure, but they had persisted. They were always the same, or close to it, chiefly populated by smoke and fire and shouts, and a song that he could never remember the words to, and could only vaguely recall the tune. For all his problems in life, he had sought the answers among the pages of his books, and so this was where he turned now to end his troubles.

There was a tiny bookshop tucked away on Oxford Street that he liked to frequent; the dusty tomes there catered to his more unique tastes, and he thought that if anywhere held the answers to ending his nightmares, it was among these pages. He left the shop in a hurry, eager to return to his home and begin pouring over them. He constantly checks his bag to make sure they're still safely tucked away, fully engrossed and completely unaware of the fact that he is being followed.

Haha! Perfection!

[once_and_future_king]

It was exceedingly easy to lose a person on a street with as much congestion as this and so Dolan was quick to note the general direction of the Stranger Not Stranger before he parked somewhat illegally, grabbed the keys to his bike, and backtracked on foot until he could follow the noticeably shorter man as he scurried towards whereever it was he was going.

Dolan could imagine him in an arm chair with doileys on the tables drinking tea from a piece of fine china, likely an antique. Perhaps it would be bone with gold edging. A petal design. His mind supplied for him sepia tones and old wooden picture frames, a large place, but homey. The thoughts were understandably disturbing and he shook his head, pressing two gloved fingers against his eyelids.

The other man had made a turn at that point and Dolan nearly lost him before he saw the other bloke scamper up to a block of flats on a very well to do street, fiddle for his keys, and disappear inside. He took a photo with his mobile of the house number and stood outside for a very long time before he returned to his bike.

The nightmares plagued him every evening, each time he dozed just after dinner, and every evening he returned to the house of a man that he was sure he knew, that he was sure was happily prattling on in his study with a glass of wine or a cup of tea and a book.

It took him a week to head up to the flat. It was just after midnight when he knocked upon the door. And that felt familiar too, the feel of the wood between them. He even expected the man to answer, if he answered, in a dressing gown.

[erudio]

All the while, Ben has gone about his life as if nothing were different, unaware of the man that haunted his doorstep. The nightmares had not ended, if anything they had become worse, and the wordless tune made him feel cold inside. The books he had bought proved interesting, but unhelpful, though he had studied each carefully. He had tried, at least, not to let his growing lack of sleep show, but the dark circles that had grown beneath his eyes were unmistakable. Most nights it took a cup of tea with a bit of brandy to send him off to sleep, usually curled up in his reading chair instead of spread out in bed.

Tonight is no different from the ones prior, and Ben was halfway to sleep when he heard the knock on his door. Oh, honestly- Whoever would be calling at this hour? He was certain that it could only be something troublesome, but ever polite, he rose to answer. Ben paused at the door, peering through the peephole, out at the man that stood there. He was a stranger... wasn't he? There was something familiar about the man, and that strange feeling was the only thing that made him open the door. Ben opened it just as far as the chain latch would allow, peering out at Dolan with suspicion.

"Can I help you?"

[once_and_future_king]

The light from the flat flooded across Dolan and he found himself holding his breath until the man answered with that face and those eyes and asked his business in a voice that haunted him nightly. Look, Thorin. It's the eagles!. Dolan's resolve melted and he gazed down at a man that he wanted to greet like an old friend but checked himself before the madness truly took over. It was bad enough that he had disturbed the tired-eye man. Suddenly aiming to hug him might end very poorly.

And so, Dolan gave a small bow. Formal, not really something he himself would ever do but it felt right under the circumstances. His eyes never left the other, even as he straightened.

"Dolan King." At your service. The silence stretched and so he cleared his throat and looked passed the man to his flat. Warm. Sepia toned. Arm chair. He knew it. It frightened him. "I was... I was wondering if you might care to get some coffee. Or tea if you prefer it. With me."

Dolan was never this awkward but he was keenly a aware how all of this sounded.

[erudio]

Common sense would dictate that he should slam the door in this man’s face, and promptly call the police. That would surely be the smartest course of action, to shut himself away in his study and forget about the dark haired stranger all together. If he had come calling months ago, that’s just what Ben would have done, but he’s here now, and his face is… familiar, maddeningly so. I’ve seen you before, He thinks to himself, fidgeting nervously at the chain lock. To unlatch it, or not? But where? And then it occurred to him, quite suddenly: it had been in his nightmares.

“You do realize the hour, Mr King?” Even so, he was reluctant to open his door. A face in a dream could have been any face, perhaps he was just so tired that he could not distinguish the two. He had never met any Dolan King, so why would he be dreaming of him? Slowly, Ben undid the latch and opened his door wider. It was ludicrous to accept an invitation from a stranger at such a late hour, and yet he found himself unable to send the man away. Ben licked his lips, looking nervous, fidgeting.

“Why have you come here?” His voice had fallen to a whisper, urgent, both afraid to know more and needing desperately to discover what truth was here. “Who are you, really?”

[once_and_future_king]

There was nothing Dolan could say that would not sound horribly crazy and so what would it matter if he told the truth? It sounded so much better than telling the man he was obviously stalking (intentions pure or otherwise, it was still mad) that he had been watching him for a week. Or that they had a chance encounter on the street and Dolan simply knew he had to be with him.

"I have been dreaming, for some time now, of things that can't actually be real. I know how this sounds. And you have every right to send me away, but I feel as if you've had this choice already and you agreed once to help me-" Dolan put up a hand and exhaled through his nose. "Let me start again." His dreams were jumbled, focusing more on hardship than on triumph save for one or two moments. It was those he chose to focus on. "I dreamed you helped me return home, that you saved my life and granted me my freedom and rescued me from madness. I dreamed that I died in your arms. I just need to know why I feel as if I know you. You look just like him."

Master Baggins.

Such a deep voice should never speak so softly. Dolan sounded both ominous and seductive. He meant to be neither.

[erudio]

As Dolan spoke, Ben could not help and watch, listen, transfixed on the other man. He had a voice that demanded to be heard, though Ben could scarcely believe all that he said. When Dolan finally finished, he exhaled suddenly; he hadn’t even been aware that he was holding his breath in the first place. It was strange, all of it, but he had a fondness for strange things. Usually, though, he preferred just to read about strange things, rather than have them drop themselves into his life. He nodded, stepping aside suddenly and motioning for Dolan to enter.

“Come inside, please,” There was no way he would turn the man away, now. He would rather deal with this within the comfort than venture out into the night. To anyone else, it might have sounded like the ravings of a lunatic, but to him, it meant a great deal more. Ben waited until he was fully inside before he shut the door, sliding the lock back into place. He remained quiet for several moments, still looking nervous, wringing his hands together as he tried to sort out what he had been told, reconcile it with his own dreams.

“I… I have been troubled by nightmares, of late,” He said at last, beckoning for Dolan to come in further, motioning for the man to sit. “And I do find your face familiar, though I don’t believe we have ever met.” Though he had seen that face in his dreams, he was sure of it now. “And I- gracious, listen to me. Let me put on some tea, or coffee, if you would prefer it? Or…”

He felt he would need something a great deal stronger than coffee or tea.

[once_and_future_king]

"Tea, if you're making it, but I could use a beer if you have that." Or a scotch, but he wasn't just going to barge in on a man he saw every night in his dreams and demand his liquor. Beer would do a piss poor job getting him pissed any way and he really did need to keep his wits about him. Especially for a conversation like they were meant to have.

He stood in the foyer for a moment, thought about perhaps scraping his black Doc Martins off before entering (and feeling as if he had done so before) but instead just unzipped his leather jacket and tried not to look as if he was staring at any one thing in particular. It was so much easier said than done, considering how much staring he did truly want to do.

After nearly making a comment about this man cutting his hair (he remembered it to be curlier, or at least dreamed it that way), Dolan shrugged out of his coat and put it on the hook beside this other man's.

Mister Baggins.

His name is Bilbo!

Dolan squeezed his eyes shut. "And thank you."

[erudio]

“Beer? Oh, no, I don’t- sorry, but I do have, ah, on the table there, brandy. I take it with my tea, sometimes…” He spoke quickly, sounding nervous as he moved back and forth between the kitchen and the sitting room, finding something small to fuss over each time. It was all he could do to keep from staring, and thinking about how there seemed to be something missing from Dolan's face. A beard? The tea kettle whistled from the other room, and brought about a strange feeling of relief. Ben hurried away without a word to fix cups of tea for them both. He returned only a few minutes later with a pot and cups on a delicate looking tray, with milk and sugar and a small plate of biscuits, as well. He was ever the gracious host.

Ben sank down in a chair with a great sigh, pouring a generous helping of brandy into his own cup, letting it sit on his lap as it cooled. What to say, now? Dolan seemed to have more of a grasp of things than he did, and he thought back on his nightmares and tried to pull more information from them. What else did he remember? What else had been important? He rembered a ring, gold, and simple, a wedding band, perhaps?

"Right then..." He said at last, drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. "Do you, I mean... I've done some reading, on nightmares, but it hasn't done me much good, and besides-" His eyes go wide suddenly, as though startled. "And I've just realized, I haven't introduced myself to you. My name is Benjamin Baggins, though you can call me Ben, if you prefer."

[once_and_future_king]

Brandy would work just as well and considering the amount that Ben just poured into his cup, Dolan felt comfortable enough to top his own off straight to the rim. He didn't want for it to cool down. He didn't wait for it to mix in. It burned going down in both senses of the word and it caused him to close his eyes. They stung. It had been a very long time since he slept.

"It's a familiar name," Dolan decided to accept because if he mentioned that he already knew Ben's last name, it might well be the end of this little chat. He could be as easily a con man as he could a thief or a rapist. He didn't mean to do any harm to the other man at all but imagines went wild with the stories that littered every piece of media. "And...a pleasure to meet you... I think I ought to add an 'again' at the end of that. This keeps getting stranger."

Thin lips lifted in half of a smile before they dropped again. Dolan had never been good with smiling.

"If you've done research, perhaps you can tell me if we're just part of a strange experiment or if it's possible to share similar dreams-- I assume they're at least somewhat similar or I likely would not be sitting here with you."

He could use more brandy.

[erudio]

The tea, and the brandy, served well to calm his trembling hands. He could almost relax. If he had been by himself still, he might have even let himself drop off to sleep. But tonight, there’s a man he might know on his couch, sharing tea with him.

“Well… I hadn’t known at the time, that there it was a shared dream,” Though now that he did, he might be able to do further research, something he had overlooked before, perhaps.

“And it wasn’t the dreams alone, but, well, there were memories, or they felt like memories, but,” He paused to drain his cup, closing his eyes to brace against the burn. “It’s all very strange.” He frowned as he refilled his cup with tea and brandy both.

“There’s lore, actually, that shared dreams could be indicative of being lovers, in a former life,” He laughed, albeit somewhat awkwardly, at the thought. There had been nothing lovely about any of his dreams. “But that’s just, ah, one possibility, I’m sure there’s a more sensible explanation than that.”

Though he doubted it. His gaze wandered to his bookshelf, stuffed with old tomes on all manner of subjects, most in latin, many with gruesome pictures on their pages. Was the answer to their problem in there, somewhere?

[once_and_future_king]

Lovers? Dolan hadn't ever found himself in that sort of situation before. There had been a random assortment of people over his life time but they were just that. Random. And extremely assorted. He'd never really had time for anyone else. The matters of his stolen inheritance kept him fairly busy and when he wasn't trying to run his business (or keep his nephews in line), Dolan mostly just rode his motorcycle around and slept. It wasn't a bad life, he just never had the need to share it with anyone in particular.

He followed Ben's gaze to the bookshelf and then looked back at his empty cup. He was going to refrain from having more of that, no matter how much he needed it.

"Past lives I might buy if they didn't heavily feature a dragon," Dolan said a bit roughly. He didn't apologise for it either, though he might feel a hint of guilt of poor Mister Baggins was startled by the bite of it. "Or giant eagles."

And yet, he remembered, quite clearly, feeling love for the other. Love and genuine fear for his well being and anguish to think he had hurt him... Dolan ran a hand up through his short hair and crossed a leg over the other, ankle resting on knee.

"Or...or elves." He said it as if even the word could leave a bad taste in his mouth.

[erudio]

Ben looked to him quickly at the change in tone, but the brandy had calmed him enough that he wasn’t startled by it, only curious. He found himself trusting Dolan more and more, because every odd thing he said, Ben had seen himself, in his dreams. There was no way Dolan could have known about them; he hadn’t breathed a word of them to anyone. Whatever… connection they had to each other, must have had some explanation. Two strangers couldn’t have been having the same troubling dreams, could they?

“It might be that we experienced a similar, hm, trauma, as children, perhaps,” But what trauma would invoke dreams of dragons and elves and mountains? Ben had never visited a mountain in all his life. “Something repressed, I would think, or… oh, I don’t know,” The brandy made him bold enough to stare, to study Dolan, almost as though he were trying to see right through him. Ben wanted answers, or an explanation, anything that might put his mind to rest.

“People die, in my dreams,” He added quietly, gaze falling back to his cup. “Sometimes, I die, sometimes, I watch others die. I’ve seen you die, at least, he looked like you.” And he remebered the gutwrenching agony with which he had awoken after that nightmare, as though someone beloved truly had just died.

[once_and_future_king]

"Then you do know me." It was not a question, just a statement. He had already known it to be true when they locked eyes over the threshold. He had known it like he had known Ben was important to him just from the single glance he had gotten on a darkened street. He had passed hundreds of people on his bike that evening but only one had pulled him this way.

And there hadn't even been a rune on his door or a wizard guiding Dolan this time-- Which he kept to himself because there was one thing to have a fantasy dream (millions of nerds did each night and Game of Thrones was a fairly popular program even in the UK) and another to mention that a wizard led you to a person destined to be nearly as important to you as your own life.

"On the ice. And you did try to tell me I would be all right. Honestly, Ben, all right? I was completely run through!" Dolan said the words fondly before he caught himself and sat forward to press his palm over his eyes. "I'm expecting a film crew to pop out and tell me we've been pranked."

[erudio]

“N- No! I don’t know you, I-” He couldn’t say why protested the statement at all, it had just bubbled up in him suddenly, the strangeness of everything rolling over him at once. His cheeks flushed, and he bit his lip, muttering some sort of apology. “I mean, how could I?” The curious things he read about in his books were only stories, in the end, things that had reasonable explanations, only they hadn’t knowledge of them at the time.

Ben shuddered, his thoughts drifting to the ice, watching him die there, helpless to save him, and blood, so much blood. They had all just been nightmares before today. Now what were they? He leaned forward to set his cup down on the coffee table, before sinking back in his chair and pulling his knees to his chest.

“It felt awful, watching you lie there…” His stomach rolled from the thought of it alone. He had never thought much about why watching the man from his dreams die had affected him as deeply as it did, but that’s all that was on his mind now. “I couldn’t… I wanted to save you, but I couldn’t.”

[once_and_future_king]

He had to stop it there. Stand up. Thank the man for his tea and his brandy. Claim not to feel well, perhaps call on him again some point and then just leave. Leave for good and never return. He could do it. It would be so easy. Even if Ben tried to look him up--

That's what a secretary is for, right? Gatekeeping? The unwanted never could touch him. He was a busy man, surely Ben could understand the lack of appointments--

Instead, Dolan folded fingers longer and finer than those in Ben's dreams, unadorned by rings, and looked over them. Not at Ben, just passed him, somewhere in the distance.

"And did you arrive home safely after that, Mr. Baggins? You mentioned that you watched yourself die. Please tell me it was not with me."

[erudio]

“No, it was… later, I think. Much later,” He had seemed so old, impossibly so, and felt like he would turn to dust. Ben eyed him curiously from where he sat, pulling his knees closer to him, and letting his chin rest atop them. Not every dream was terror-stricken, in the beginning, they had been peaceful, mundane, a quiet home on a quiet hill- no, not on the hill, in the hill. Bag End. What a silly name.

“I’m not quite sure what to make of any of this,” He could feel a sense of dread rising within him. Why would he be so affected by all of this, if it had no greater meaning? If only he could find what that greater meaning was. “I feel there is something more to these dreams but…” But what? That was the million dollar question.

He wished, briefly, that Dolan had never come knocking on his door. Just to look at him made something in his chest ache, and even worse was that he had no clear idea why.

[once_and_future_king]

Dolan was thinking the same thing in the end. If he hadn't come, there would just be nightmares, not baggage left over from nightmares in the form of a man that looked particularly good to hug and maybe just a little bit lonely. Dolan wondered if that was his fault, if all of this was. If he hadn't been so stupid, if he had only listened to the other then, they could have turned out differently.

"If you ask me," and no one was, "I think these dreams are more than enough," he half lamented. "So...we had some crazy shared passed life or a traumatic childhood or were just really into a film we saw as kids and have put each other into various roles but, Ben, there really doesn't need to be more than that. And if there is, maybe it's best to leave it alone."

He stood. He'd wasted a great deal of Ben's time here this evening and things hadn't gotten any better for either of them.

"I should go. I'm not even sure why I came." Other than this person felt important to him.

[erudio]

Ben considered this. Most likely, there was a simple explanation to their dreams, and they were only getting caught up in some strange excitement now, thinking that there was some greater meaning to it. It had almost felt like the beginning of an adventure, and it had been so long since his life had been anything close to adventurous.

“Perhaps that would be best,” He said vaguely, rising from his chair to stretch. Even if he never saw Dolan King again, he doubted he would ever forget him, and now this nightmare conundrum would bother him further. He paused, turning to retrieve a pen and a scrap and scribbling his number down onto it.

“Here,” He offered it to Dolan. “In case anything, ah, changes, you could call me.” Ben paused, adjusting the belt of his robe and looking back to his books. “I study history, for a living. Well, I teach it, but I spend most of my free time studying and… I’ve always had a taste for strange, old, histories, you see, and while some tales are just that, stories, other things-” Another pause. “I think I will continue to look into this, and if you find yourself interested, well, you have my number.”

Something in him did not want Dolan to leave in the first place, but as he did not know what that ‘something’ was, he could not think to act on it.

[once_and_future_king]

Clutching the piece of paper with Ben's number upon in in one hand and his leather coat in the other. He had not slipped the former away. He had not put the latter on. In fact, he simply took himself back out to the other side of the door and stood as he had half an hour before, watching Ben with curious and confused eyes.

Not many people are given second chances. He knew that, and he felt like he was blowing it by being stubborn and rock hard in his convictions. Haven't you learned by now not to focus so intently on yourself? He didn't want to relive lessons he should have already learned.

Before Ben could shut the door, Dolan put his foot in the jamb and reached out to the take the other's hand. It was rude, to touch so freely. The English tended to be a stand offish sort.

"Tomorrow. Come out with me." Once again, he made it sound like a date, but the more he thought of it, the more that 'lovers' commented seemed to stick. "I'll pick you up here at eight."

[erudio]

As Dolan left to his apartment, Ben couldn't help but wonder if he would ever see the man again, at least in the waking hours. He had a sinking feeling that he would certainly see him tonight, when he slept, and he only hoped that he would not see him die again. It almost made him uneasy, to know the man that shared the face with the man from his dreams.

“Goodnight, Mr King-” And then the door stopped suddenly, unable to be shut, and Ben seems startled by that. He’s startled even further when Dolan takes his hand, and he felt a heat creep up his neck. He swallowed hard, looking from their hands, to Dolan, and back at their hands again.

“I- I…” He stammered, trying to gather himself. It had been quite some time since he had last been on a “date”, if that what this was supposed to be. He wasn't even entirely sure. “I suppose I could, alright.”

[once_and_future_king]

Dolan wasn't exactly thinking 'date' so much as he was thinking that he didn't want to let Ben go just yet. He probably ought to release his hand, though... It was getting awkward. "Good. Eight. Wear jeans." They were the safest bet when riding a motorcycle, after all. He shoved the number into his back pocket, not sure if he ought to be smiling or not (so he did halfway, which just looked awkward) and pulled out his jacket. Hopefully Ben would just ignore the look he was given for now, however, because Dolan tore his eyes away to trot down the stairs to the front door.

They were the oddest pair. Dolan was tall and muscular, wore leather coats and slicked back his hair. Ben was a typical academic, right down to the cardigans. They were going to be an odd pair, certainly.

That evening, Dolan dreamed of Ben (whom he called Mr. Baggins). His arms were wrapped around him and his face was pressed against soft, light brown curls. He smelled sweat and blood and courage.

He could feel hope with the warmth of the other pressed again him and he'd felt, for the first time, that he could truly be happy.

The following evening, Dolan stood under Ben's window for a long while, just watching shadows pass against the curtain. He found himself grinning, almost stupidly. Did Ben dream of him the last night too? Dolan just hoped that their conversation went less insane than the night before. He took the stairs two at a time, and in black skinny jeans, Doc Martins and his leather coat, he knocked on the door. "Mr. Baggins?"

[erudio]

“Right, jeans! Goodnight!”

He squeaked out and shut the door, blaming any flush or fluster on the brandy, and nothing more. Ben busied himself with tidying up, at first, but the drink had set his head to swimming and he was soon collapsed into bed, snoring softly. His dreams that night were not as troubled as they had been, although they were awash wish Dolan’s… no, it was Thorin in his dreams- with his face and the smell of earth and steel. It was oddly pleasant, and at the very least it was preferable to fire and blood.

The next day was a bright, and sunny Saturday, though chilly, and Ben spent much of it inside with his books. He had found a new fervor for his research, entrenching himself in carefully translated Latin, looking for any sort of explanation for their shared dreams. As the evening approached, Ben set his books aside at last to begin getting ready. Even if it was not a date (and he thought perhaps he only thought it might have been because of the brandy) he still liked to look his best when stepping out.

He wore jeans, as requested, paired with a soft sweater of a deep forest green, with a light grey collared shirt beneath. Ben examined himself in the bathroom mirror, pulling gently at the dark bags beneath his eyes. Oh well, nothing to be done about them. He reached for the bottle of his cologne by the sink, dabbing it at his neck. He smiled at the warm, woodsy scent of it, before setting it back down and returning to his sitting room to wait, with a book in his lap. The knock on his door made him jump, despite the fact that he was expecting it, and he wasted no time in answering.

“Good evening, Mr King.”

[once_and_future_king]

And Dolan wasted no time in looking Ben up and down. The look suited him. He still looked soft, just as he had had in his dreams, soft and warm and comforting. But clever too, and wise. He might have taken just a little too long to answer, helmet under his arm for his passenger to ride, even if Ben might not realize their mode of transportation.

"Good evening to you, Mr. Baggins," Dolan did finally get out, letting Ben lock up before they went down the stairs together.

Dolan's bike was his pride and joy, sleek and black and not something a professor at a university tended to ride around on. Dolan handed the helmet to Ben. His own was resting on the seat waiting for him. "I was thinking of a pub down by the Thames near Charing Cross. Just loud enough not to be overheard and they've decent food as well." If he detected any sort of discomfort about having a motorcycle for transportation from Ben, he would also add: "It's less tempermental than a pony."

[erudio]

As soon as he had seen the helmet tucked under Dolan’s arm, Ben had felt his heart sink.Oh no, He thought, and Oh no, again when he actually saw the motorcycle parked there. He preferred to walk most places, though he had a modest, reliable car to get him to and from work. A motorcycle- well, he had never been ridden one in the entirety of his life, and before tonight he had thought it would stay that way. He took the helmet reluctantly, and wondered if he could offer to drive them there instead.

“Oh…” Dolan’s comment made him smile, although to anyone else it might have sounded more strange than amusing. “Alright,” He pulled on the helmet and settled carefully in the seat behind him, trying to find a comfortable way to sit and not think about how much more dangerous motorcycles were compared to other modes of transportation.