She expected him to swing up on his motorbike, the loud rumble of an engine rousing her from her thoughts. Instead, however, the situation was entirely different — a large black and purple RV crawled down the street, struggling to make the tight turns and corners. Immediately the colour scheme was recognizable — Rattle. Just enough extravagance to obviously be him, but understated enough to be relatively low-key.
He was every bit as charming and delightful in his greeting as she could recall; a grin crossed her ruby-red lips and she stomped out the cig, then walking across the pavement towards the land yacht, stopping just outside the door of the massive vehicle. “Maybe I am,” she feigned a Southern Belle accent, “Would you mind takin’ this little lady on board and helpin’ me find what I’m lookin’ for?” She smirked, walking up the steps and into the RV.
Rattle’s smirk turned into a shit-eating grin as Lore put on the southern drawl, eyes drifting down to take in her casual clothes for a moment as she climbed the steps. Seeing her in something other than a dress was still something of a novelty, one he was growing to enjoy - the dresses were pretty, sure, but there was something infinitely nicer in seeing her in something that actually looked comfortable. He closed the door behind her, his smile turning easy and casual with a contented hum. he was more than happy to get his rig onto wider roads.
“Depends on what the little lady’s lookin’ fer,” he said, turning off his hazards and pulling out. Behind him, the african grey parrot in the back had launched into a repeated bounce of ‘prettyprettyprettypretty’ but Rattle just ignored him. “Wasn’t quite expectin’ to hear you’d moved into my home town. How’s the city treatin’ you, Lore?”