Owner	Pose
Logan	Logan's bike doesn't announce his arrival. The bike screams it. That engine just roars so loud it can be heard from a good two or three miles away at the right time. And that's when people get ready to ready the beer. It's his usual. They don't make anything for him because that choice varies. The drink doesn't. Going to a spot in front, Logan stops the bike. Dressed in the medium brown bomber jacket, a light blue pair of jeans, a tan colored hat and medium brown, and well worn, cowboy boots. His steps go "k-thnk!" with each step. They further announce his coming. Ocean blue eyes drink the place in as he looks for just any place to sit. Luckily a booth is open on this late afternoon. The sky is a nice shade of blue, almost deceptive. Like from inside a building it looks like spring is here. Yet the wind holds enough bite to remind anyone that Spring's going to be a bit. Still, better than snow or a blizzard.
Arthur King	As for Arthur? He's mostly quiet. His own bike pulls up not long after Logan's. It's not as loud screaming, but is definitely something foreign rather than typical biker. A model from Japan it looks like. Maybe an import. And well taken care of. Taking off the motorcycle helmet, he sets it in the back and locks it. Riding leathers are a bit obvious on him, along with some slightly loose jeans and a black t-shirt. Stretching a bit, he is not far behind Logan. And he did glance at Logan's bike on the way in. Once inside, he waits patiently before ending up by complete chance at the next booth from Logan's. The offer of a beer by the staff has him shaking his head and holding up a hand, "Underage." He smiles, "Just a root beer, please. And a menu." A glance is thrown over his shoulder, "Nice bike." He comments, then looks back to the menu.
Logan	Logan notes the other bike that comes in. It holds his interest for a moment. Then he turns his head away. Before long the rider comes inside. They set in a booth not far from his own. "Yers ain't bad. Ninja. Mid 80s right? Old, but reliable," he smirks and shakes his head. Logan knows people would say the same about him. taht's not lost on him. "Mine's a suped up Indian. Don't know why, just like em'," it's a memory that tugs at him, but stays -just- out of range. A pre-war, or during war, kind of memory. "What brings ya to this place?" Logan asks knowing that it's not every day to see a fellow rider -here-. so, Logan will take the bait and ask about the person. General, roundabout ways.
Arthur King	Arthur nods, "Everyone has their own preference. Prefer not to question it myself." The question as to 'why' has him nodding at the drink that he ends up with, "Long day of travelling, and some accidents had me go the long way to home. And I got a bit hungry, so went for the first one that I thought looked decent." He raises the glass a bit, "I'm Arthur."
Logan	"Yep. Only assholes do that," Logan says about the preferences. "Good place. Try the burger," Logan says honestly on that front. It's probably what he's going to get. Nothing is set in stone yet. "Logan," and he'll raise his beer. "May the road keep bein' kind to us," that's the best he can say for a toast right now. "So, what's yer story or whatever you feel like sharin'," people just don't pass through. He's not trying to poke too much.
Arthur King	A laugh is given, "I agree. And I will." Arthur smiles, "And a safe journey to us either way." He says in response to the toast. "Hm... well, technically I'm a rich brat." He shrugs. "Mostly just travelling around seeing extended family. Helping them out when I can."