How Not To Drive Home for Snoggletog

2: A Really Bad Day

Two: A Really Bad Day

Astrid Hofferson had been having a really bad day. She had quit her job, finalised her divorce and now had a long drive back to Berk for the annual Snoggletog celebration with her family. The last thing she needed was some idiot scumbag on a motorbike slamming into her as she pulled out onto the main Highway north.

She stopped the car and switched off the engine, unfastening her seatbelt and emerging into the cold night. The road was almost completely deserted...apart from the idiot who had hit her. She growled as she inspected the passenger side, seeing the huge dent from the impact and managing a string of expletives before glaring at the motorcycle, lying bent and scraped on the floor. Reluctantly, she went to look at the rider, the man in black who had flown over her car and impacted hard on the asphalt, rolling before lying still.

He was lying flat on his back, breathing quietly. He was tall and lean, his deep metallic grey helmet scraped but still obviously decorated with a black dragon with acid green eyes. Astrid paused, reaching for her phone to call 9-1-1 for an ambulance as the man abruptly sat up, wrenching his helmet off and glaring her.

"You utter moron!" he snarled.

Astrid blinked in shock at the accusation and lowered her phone, her azure eyes narrowing in anger.

"What?" she snapped, icily. The man grimaced as he moved, his emerald eyes narrowing under well-defined brows, messy auburn hair framing a pale face with sharp jaw and occasional freckles.

"Don't you know how to look at an intersection? Check for other traffic before pulling onto the Highway? Not pull out in the path of an oncoming vehicle?" he growled, sarcasm oozing from his voice.

"I beg your pardon?" she said in shock at the vehemence of his attack.

"Oh, it is definitely not granted," he told her, wincing as he moved and slowly bracing his arms to help himself up. She scowled.

"I wasn't apologising," she spat at him.

"You should. You were in the wrong," he told her shortly, slowly getting to his knees. He was gritting his teeth in pain.

"I pulled out after appropriately checking the road," she said tartly, her temper rising. She knew she had been checking the radio and had assumed the way would be clear at this time of night. "How fast were you going anyway? I didn't see any lights..." The man cast a look at his crumpled bike: the headlamp was still on.

"Need an optometrist then," he told her sarcastically. "There it is." She blushed.

"But you had to be speeding..." she argued, rubbing her arms. The night was cold and she had left her coat in the car. The man slowly stumbled to his feet, wincing as he put any pressure on his left leg.

"I doubt it..." he said angrily, pointing to the gas station a half-mile back. "Just come outta there after refuelling. I didn't have time to get up to any speed." Astrid glared at him for a long moment then gave an exasperated sigh.

"Fine! I wasn't looking," she spat. "I had other things to do."

"You mean apart from almost killing me?" the man snapped, his emerald eyes vaguely familiar. She blinked and shook herself.

"Sorry, alright?" she snapped, not sounding the least bit contrite.

"Wow, feeling the sincerity," the man snarked. "You knock me down, wreck my bike and ruin my plans." He stared at the wrecked bike and gestured at the scraped and mangled vehicle. "Eighteen months work, trashed. Thank you so much, Miss I-don't-give-a-shit-I-wiped-you-out!"

"Hey, you're not the only one who's having a bad day!" she spat back. His emerald eyes widened in shock.

"What? You're pretending a bad day excuses...this...?" he scoffed, his arms swinging to encompass the whole of the crash scene. "I have no way to get back home for Snoggletog now. There is zero chance I could get a train or flight at this notice-everything has gone or is fully booked-and it's Snoggletog in two days anyway. And Berk isn't that easy to..."