She watches him think, listens to the tone and timbre of it while surrounded by the familiar noises of people moving on, closes her eyes and tilts her head. She can't stop how loud his thoughts are in her mind, but she can try and pay attention to what else might be overheard and thought about her.

No one's looking for them yet. No one thought to record their 'fight'. Two points in their favor.

She's probably going to be sick in a few hours once the drugs start wearing off. A point against.

The man in front of her comes to a decision and her eyes pop open just as he reveals the motorcycle. This will be fun, she thinks, and she has no hesitation climbing onto the bike behind him.

"An evening of firsts! You're a good dancer, too, but can you sew?"

Because someone has a tracker in the back of her thigh. She can handle it on her own, but, you know.