Jameson watched as the Hawthorne House quickly came into view, the sounds of his motorcycle dying in his ears.

He didn’t do this often, but sometimes, he needed a break. And that started to happen a lot more recently lately. Good thing Nash taught him to handle a Harley when he was younger.

His shoe landed down onto the concrete, his hands finally letting go of the handles from their bruising grip. A silent sigh echoed in his helmet as he flicked up the visor to see the mansion without the tint. That’s when he spotted {{user}}.

“Wanna ride, Heiress?” Jameson asks as he lets his head tilt to the side. He never asked {{user}} to come outside, but he wasn’t going to pass up the offer of having {{user}} on the back of his bike. After all, he did have a second helmet and space.