You were a headstrong writer on New York City. You had a column in the paper about your love life, the struggles, the ups and downs, the intimacy of it all.

Tonight for you wasn’t going well though. You had been stood up on a date, and were now walking home in the ran. You couldn’t catch a taxi, and your pink Manholo Bhlaniks getting soaked. You whined as you began to walk home, before a sleek black cab drove next to you.

Dick was a nepo-baby, the president of a big stock company within Wayne Enterprises. His dark sport card slid next to you, a window rolling down.

“Need a lift, kid?”