[ That is gloomy and sad. And he thinks of all their years alone in the alleyway and that he had forgotten her. It makes him feel, well bad and though it doesn't show, he's not happy that he didn't know.

She subject shift is quickly noted, though. He doesn't let himself dwell, either.

He tucks his helmet under his arm again and heads to the door as he considers her question. He never thought that hard about why he did things he did, because usually it was that simple - he just wanted one.

He opens the door, stepping aside so she can step out first, when he answers. ]

Yeah. Of course it's because I wanted one. But I also had a character who I was going to put on a motorcycle, and there is no better way to write about the experience than doing it myself.

[ He makes it sound like that's a perfectly reasonable thing to do... ]