Where somebody of Adam's mind might solace himself with words, Ronan had only ever found true comfort in his body. There were seldom things more therapeutic than roaring down a shimmering highway, feeling his engine rumble beneath him, savouring the fug of exhaust, or drinking until his veins burned with ethanol, or perhaps hurling himself into something likely to leave a mark.

That was what had just happened.

And, despite his jarring expletive, he was beginning to feel better.

The pain in his leg wasn't the fun kind. It twinged and needled persistently. It was probably going to hamper him for the rest of the day. At least. But at least it gave him something to think about other than the lonely apartment waiting for him somewhere in this sea of malls and mercantiles, betrothed to the key in his hand and stamped with his name for no apparent reason.

"Dude," he said, his voice dipping with a dry laugh. "This is worse than that time I landed wrong jumping off the pier. Fuuuuuuck." He tested it gingerly, making various faces. "Whatever. Let's just go."