Harley was going twenty over when she got on the highway, narrowly avoiding the person who had rear ended him moments previously. She swerved to the other side of the road and parked, since most people had slowed because of the accident. She threw herself out of the car and stumbled to the wreck, muttering a slew of curses. It was currently upside down, and looked totaled. She was on her knees beside the still open driver-side window, and he seemed... well. She gently reached in and pressed her fingers to his neck. She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

He awoke rather startled by her touch, but not by her face. "I figured." He said quietly, half groaning. He touched his forehead and found a knot. He winced and glanced around, and then unbuckled himself. He landed rather gracefully, all things considered. It was almost like this wasn't his first time...cuz it wasn't.

"Figured what?" Harlow asked indignantly, watching him flop down onto the roof of his truck. Even being signifigantly smaller than him, she was able to wiggle him out of the open window. "Can you walk?" She asked hurriedly, her hands on his shoulders.

He grabbed onto the seat, clenching his jaw. It was there he noticed something was wrong with his left shoulder. He huffed. "That you weren't just a stranded blonde." He knelt down and crawled out of his window. Big trucks have big windows, he was quite happy for that. As he sat on the ground outside he blinked rapidly, his head hurt quite a bit. He shied away from her touch to his shoulder. "Yes I can. I think."

"Who, me? Naw, I'm still a ditzy blonde." Harlow said sarcastically, lightly pulling her hand away from the shoulder he was sensitive with. She gently laid his arm over her shoulders and nodded. "Good. Let's go then." She muttered, helping him up and slowly bringing him to the passenger side of her car.

"Oh good to hear." He replied passively as she helped him stand up. He stared at his poor truck. "Can't believe you would willingly crash such a beautiful vehicle." He was legitimately disappointed. He liked that chevy. He huffed, reaching up and felt there was a stream of blood down the side of his face now. He stepped into the car, wincing, he held his shoulder lightly.

"Well, it was kind of my job, and I have to pay rent somehow. Sorry." Harlow huffed, climbing into her car and starting it up, glancing over at him. "How bad is it?" She asked lightly, pulling out of the space lightly.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Most people don't cut random peoples brakes, so. I noticed." He sat back in the seat, pushing his head against it. He buckled himself in and rested his left hand on his lap. "On a scale of eh to passed out, its about a," He twitched his eye in a subtle wince. And then glared at her.

"Love, we both know you aren't 'random'. If you were a normal person I would've asked for your number instead of cutting your brakes." Harlow said sarcastically, glancing over and smirking at his glare before she looked back at the road. "Hey, it could be worse. Oh, and put this on." She reached lightly over and opened her glovebox, yanking a black strip of fabric out and shutting it. "If you can. If not, I can." She said casually, as if she hadn't just hauled him from a wrecked truck and into her BMW, then asked him to put on a blindfold.

He narrowed his eyes. "How flattering. Unfortunately you should know that I wouldn't have taken it because I can't without being hunted down as though I was kidnapped. In this case I have a feeling it'll have the same response." He rolled his eyes to the glovebox. He took it from her hands, fiddling with it in his fingers. "I can probably manage." He leaned forward a bit to put it on so he wouldn't have to lift his shoulder. He winced as he sat up, dizzy. He let his head fall back. He pressed onto the wound on his forehead for a moment, looking down.