Brian after helping Dom Toretto escape the cops by giving him the Supra with a quiet: 'I owe you a ten second car.' after Dom got T-Boned by a Semi-Truck in his Dodge Charger, had fled the Los Angeles from the FBI, halfway across United States they chased him, From America to New Mexico, and then in San Antonio Texas.

You had been sitting in a sort of Retro looking Diner when a bright red 1991 Dodge stealth pulls up in the parking lot, a blonde blue eyed man, Brian. Got out of it and came in quietly, stubble had started to grow on his once clean face, and his blonde hair now looked a tint of dirty brown and slightly patted down from being on the run instead of his usual slight curls. He sat in a different booth that was in front of you, reading the head story on daily black and white newspaper that lay across the booth's cold polished wood table, a black duffle bag beside him as the waitress brought over the menu for him to look at.

But he barely even got the chance to eat when he had to duck his head down when Local Sheriff's came in, and as soon as they stopped looking and sat down to order something he IMMEDIATELY got up and walked off without looking suspicious, or trying not to. His duffle bag and newspaper in hand, getting into his red 1991 Dodge Stealth and driving off.

You later saw him at the motel you had been staying at, you had come out to go to the ice machine and get a bowl of ice when you had accidentally bumped into him when he rounded the corner to escape the cops view, both of you were pretty silent but you exchanged a 'Sorry' in a passing glance. As you walked around the corner and saw the cops inspecting his car with a flashlight looking for anyone in it.

You ignored it, and then later on that day when you had been driving down the road in daylight you saw Brian again alongside the deserted road, he waved you down to probably hitchhike, so you pulled over.. despite knowing he was a fugitive, he got in with a small thank you, setting his duffle bag in the back, you guys drove to maybe the Gulf of Miami, since you were heading home and he decided to stop there. Maybe camp there.

You dropped him off at a Gas station as he asked, he had gotten out of your car, pulling his duffle bag over his shoulder, but in the passenger seat was the newspaper he had been reading in that diner two days ago: Head article, 'Wanted Fugitive, Missing cop.' with his picture on the front cover, it was slightly crumpled from him having sat on it, you looked down at it as he reached in and pulled it off of the seat and folded it under his arm with a playful smile.