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“Hold on a sec,” you said, choosing now to get in between.
The Sleeves stopped their advance on Magnus. A little respect and hesitancy could be a castle wall in the right circumstances- as old pig man taught once, being smaller and weaker could benefit you in the right circumstance.
“So,” you followed on, not waiting to hear any proposals you weren’t interested in like <span class="mu-i">stay out of this</span> or <span class="mu-i">stand aside</span>, “This don’t seem like a fair fight.”
“One on one and a half is close enough odds,” Magnus mused.
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Blutig whined, “You’ll have an apology wrung from you yet!”
Magnus was making it really difficult not to just let him have at it, but you wanted two things, in a way. To be a part of it, but also not to mess up the date venue. “You’ll lose,” you said flatly to the two Sleeves, “In a straight up fight. I ain’t gonna just let y’ beat him up even if I thought you could. So. You’re <span class="mu-i">riders</span>, aren’t you? <span class="mu-i">Motorritter?</span> Last I checked, we’ve all got motorcycles.” Except the quiet broad in the back, but she could go get stuffed as far as you cared. Her build was too similar to yours to be any competition, while also needing to do more sit-ups and squats.
That seemed to hit some brain matter in between the two thugs’ skulls, together with the realization that Magnus, for all his prettiness, was taller and broader of arm than both. “You know what,” Rauch said, “You’re right, we’ll go easy on you. A race will settle this.”
“Blackjack rules, I presume,” Magnus said. You turned your head at that- you knew he’d done a lot of Dustlands duties but that term was definitely not Netillian.
Blutig, as usual, seemed clueless. “…You want to play cards while racing?”
“No, dippy,” Rauch said, and Blutig whirled on him like he was about to pick another fight, “It means real racing.”
“Dirty racing,” Magnus corrected. “Especially with that baton you’ve got in your coat.”
Rauch touched his jacket in surprise. “But that’s fine, yeah?”
Nobody would hear otherwise. Trying to hit each other during a race meant not focusing on the road or speed anyways. “Yeah,” you said, “That’s fine.”
Magnus noticed the implication. “You don’t have to, Lady-”
“I’m doing it,” you interrupted, “And you can’t stop me.”
No further comment was had on that as you all went outside. You couldn’t help but feel a bit smug when Bluting seemed to choke upon seeing your rides.
“Aren’t those…<span class="mu-i">Academy</span> Sixes?”
“And how would you know that?” You snickered.
“Uh,” he stammered, “I mean, it’d be on your arse, if they got beaten up…”
