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Don't wreck my truck. [he threatens, locking up behind her as he dutifully follows along.
of course, the threat turns out to be entirely unnecessary, because while driving a truck isn't anything like driving a timeship, it is like riding a bicycle, all muscle memory once the nerves die down. sara handles his ride, unsurprisingly, like a champ, hands casually drifting along the wheel as she hurries down the road toward the beach.
he grins at her, has a fleeting thought about bonnie and clyde, and how maybe if they weren't tasked with keeping the world safe, if she didn't have her thing with snart — which he still hasn't gotten a full explanation of and has only gleaned from those times he's observed them together — that maybe just maybe they could take over the world with one another. or paint the town red. or at least have a damn good time.
so when she urges him to fill the silence in the cab with the sound of music, he's all to quick to oblige, fiddling with the dial until a familiar song comes through amidst the static. it's not beach going music, but it seems fitting that this be the song that plays while he admires her for not the first and certainly not the last time.] I love the 70s.
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