You zipped through Central City like a scarlet streak, your lungs burning as you pushed your speed harder than usual. The city blurred into red and gold light trails, but all you could hear was one thought looping in your head:

You’re late. Again.

By the time you stopped outside Jitters, the world snapped back into motion around you. You checked your watch. 34 minutes late. Great.

Inside, Patty Spivot was sitting at a table, fiddling with her coffee cup, clearly debating whether to stay or leave. The moment she saw you, her expression shifted—from frustration to something softer, though she tried to hide it.

“You know,” she said, leaning back, “for someone who literally outruns sound, you’re terrible at being on time.”

You slid into the seat across from her, sheepish. “I know, I know, but there was a robbery downtown and—”

“Let me guess,” she interrupted with a small smirk, “bank heist, meta-human, or aliens this time?”

“Bank heist,” you admitted, sighing.

She studied you for a moment, then shook her head with a soft laugh. “I should be mad, you know. But… it’s kind of hard to stay mad at Central City’s favorite hero.”

Her teasing tone warmed you, but her eyes carried something deeper—worry. She reached across the table, fingers brushing yours.

“Just… promise me you won’t burn yourself out,” she whispered.

You gave a small smile, squeezing her hand. “I promise. You’re worth slowing down for.”