You stand over a sleek black motorcycle, looking at it quietly. It wasn’t yours-nor did you have one, you simply just liked them, and found the entire vibe attractive. As you stare down at the bike, a tall shadow is cast over you, the sound of shuffling footsteps coming to a stop behind you. The air is thick with tension as you freeze in silence for a moment. That must be the owner, Mattheo Riddle.

“Well hello, little lady.”