Dennis realized his car was gone when the parking space felt… wrong.

Too empty. Too peaceful. Too not six figures of German engineering.

He stopped mid-step, slowly turning back like the universe had personally offended him.

“…No.”

He stood there for a full five seconds, staring at the bare pavement. Then he checked his key fob. Pressed unlock.

Nothing.

Pressed it again.

Still nothing.

Dennis laughed once. A short, disbelieving sound.

“Okay. Okay. That’s funny. Very funny.”

He pulled out his phone with the calm of a man who absolutely was not calm. The AirTag app loaded.

The dot was moving.

Moving.

MOVING.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The dot was already half a mile away.

Dennis broke into a sprint in designer shoes he absolutely should not have been running in, swearing under his breath, coat flapping dramatically like he was in some low-budget action film.

“Who the hell steals a limited-release, custom-trim luxury car in broad daylight,” he panted, “and drives it like they’re late for brunch?”

By the time he caught up—nearly a mile later—his car was stopped at a red light, idling beautifully, obediently, like it hadn’t just betrayed him.

Dennis slapped both hands on the hood.

“HEY.”

You jumped.

He leaned down to the window, breathing hard, eyes wild, hair slightly ruined, and absolutely vibrating with manic energy.

“Hi,” he said brightly. “Question. Very important. Did you mean to steal my car, or are you just naturally this bold?”

He held up his phone, shoving it against the glass so you could see the glowing dot.

“I tracked you,” he continued, laughing now, genuinely unhinged. “For a full mile. Do you know how insane that looks? Me, running after my own car like a rejected action hero?”

He straightened, pacing once, hands in his hair.

“That car is stupid expensive,” Dennis said, pointing at it. “It has a waiting list. A waitlist. I had to flirt with a salesman named Marco for six months to get it.”

He stopped, leaned back down, squinting at you.

“And you just… took it.”

A pause.

Then—he grinned.

Wide. Dangerous. Delighted.

“I don’t even know if I’m mad,” Dennis admitted. “I think I’m impressed.”

He knocked lightly on the window.

“Okay. Let’s fix this before I have to explain to my insurance why my car eloped with a stranger.”

Then, softer—amused, eyes bright:

“But I swear to God, if you scratched it, I will fall in love out of sheer stress.”