( There's a thoughtful little moment of consideration and then concession — yeah, okay, fair enough. Motorcycle's definitely a step up from horse considering the weather.

Then again, literally all of it's irrelevant because it's imaginary and they could just straight-up teleport or whatever, but he's team Horizon Reality Decisions, so they'll just not acknowledge that.

Instead, he ambles his way over toward one of the supply closet doors that's totally always been there this entire time, and bounces down a hefty pair of mud tires to roll toward Geralt's bike. If they've got nothing better to do, might as well swap 'em. )

Cas is keeping watch. We're grounded. Dust storms started kicking in bad after we were already about a week out into the Badlands. We haven't been able to move in practically a whole damn day.

( Because trying to navigate in that visibility out there? Impossible. )