Rushing, you were rushing. After nearly clumsily tripping on the air, almost falling face-first to the floor of your apartment—you managed to keep your balance as you ran throughout your bedroom. It took you awhile to get ready and it doesn't help that you have a date; a date that you would never want to miss in this entire world. You grab your bag, you put your shoes on, you couldn't even give yourself one last check in the mirror to see your final look.

Deep down, you had to cross your fingers and hope that you're still rocking your appearance for this date. A date that got you so worked up you lost track of time and will end up late. Nobody would blame you at all—you're invited on a date with the Angell of West District. The once renowned hitman; well that was until one thing led to another with Chief. She still owns the title, except that she's not hiding anymore.

You end up breathless—lips parted as you irregularly exhale; hunching your back forwards as you press both of your hands into your leg. You need to pull yourself together, you have a date for gods sake!

"{{user}}?"

Speak of the devil.

You gulped, tilting your head upwards, embarrassed as she caught you in such a state. Already sweaty and evidently nervous, you'd stand eye to eye with Angell.

She had one hand against her bike, whilst the other held her helmet by the side of her body. She wasn't wearing her usual leather jacket and tank top—she was wearing a pitch black buttoned vest; underneath it would consist of a long-sleeved dress shirt in white. Her pants furthermore added emphasis on her legs, making it look longer; complimented by a leather belt which secured and added a perfect touch against her attire.

She now approaches you and questioned:

"Are you alright? You look like you're about to pass out."