"Oh. Thank you for the offer, but I'm well supplied with transportation. My wife and my two eldest son have quite a lovely collection of classic cars." A slight smile comes to the man's face and eyes.
Kalap is sitting inside a purple, winged alien motorcycle. It is hovering a foot above the air. "I'll trade you this if you'd like. I'm no longer able to reach the controls." He was recently de-aged, you see.
"Hmmm, no. My sons would probably love it. But it'd be deucidly hard to explain to the locals." The man sits up slightly. "No longer able? Did something happen?"
"A human box thing flashed a bright light and now I'm too small to ride this ghost. I can barely walk in my armour now and my weapons require two hands to lift now."
" - that's a Delorian!" His tone suggests the man does not appreciate his overabundance of luck.
"..um, I've got a - " quick, don't call it a crapmobile " - Toyota. If you really want to trade. But seriously, Delorians are neat cars. You should keep it."
"Yes," comes the bored reply. "I'm quite aware of the make, thank you. The thought of how frightfully the hideous beast would clash with my wife's other cars makes me shudder."
Then the man looks up, though he's still leaning on his fist. "Well, I was thinking of something more classic. What make is your Toyota?"
He laughs. "It's a 2002 Toyota Corolla, repainted this year. I honestly don't think you'd want to be anywhere near it. Maybe if you thought of the Delorian as complementing or contrasting with the other cars?"
A pause.
" - and possibly another coat of paint." Metody thinks it's just lovely, but Metody is a man who willingly wears sequined Hawaiian shirts in public.
"Hmm. Corollas are supposedly classic in their own right, but it would clash just as badly as this beastly thing. You see, my wife fancies Barracudas and Corvettes and the like. And she has a most fetching cobalt blue Shelby Cobra."
For some reason his smirk as he talks about that last car is nearly insufferably smug.
"Well, I don't have anything on me now, but if you tell me what you're looking for, I'm positive I can find one," says the short black haired man, "Easily."
Doc frowns a little at that. "Honestly, I've always thought DeLoreans were rather good-looking cars," he says, examining the one this fellow's got. "Not so much when they're green, granted. . . . Where'd you get it, anyway?"
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" - that's a Delorian!" His tone suggests the man does not appreciate his overabundance of luck.
"..um, I've got a - " quick, don't call it a crapmobile " - Toyota. If you really want to trade. But seriously, Delorians are neat cars. You should keep it."
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Then the man looks up, though he's still leaning on his fist. "Well, I was thinking of something more classic. What make is your Toyota?"
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A pause.
" - and possibly another coat of paint." Metody thinks it's just lovely, but Metody is a man who willingly wears sequined Hawaiian shirts in public.
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For some reason his smirk as he talks about that last car is nearly insufferably smug.
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is. . .that. . .a. . .
"Who paints a DeLorean green?" he demands of no one in particular. "Who paints stainless steel in the first place?"
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Then he raises one brow without taking his face from his hand. "So you like this, do you?"
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