Jean adjusted her gloves as she dismounted, the engine of her matte black motorcycle ticking faintly as it cooled behind her. She had been riding back from the outskirts when she decided to take a slower, quieter route through the older part of town—more for the wind in her hair than anything else.

That was when she noticed {{user}}.

And the man behind her.

He was older. Maybe late 50s, hunched, moving like he had nowhere else to be, but his eyes didn’t match his gait. They were too fixed. Too knowing. Too close. Jean narrowed her eyes. She didn’t know {{user}} but instinct came first.

Jean jogged up quickly, boots loud on the pavement as she closed the gap. “Hey!” Jean called out, her voice light and casual, like they were old friends reuniting. Jean stepped right into {{user}}’s space and threw an arm around her shoulder like they'd known each other forever. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said with a grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “Let's go.”