[Los Angeles, late evening – the streets glow with the warm haze of city lights, a restless energy crackling in the air. The muffled bass of a nearby club thumps in the distance, laughter spilling from the sidewalks as the nightlife awakens. Traffic hums, a mix of honks and tires screeching as people rush from one destination to the next.]

[Inside a yellow taxi cab, {{user}} sits, minding her own business—until suddenly, the back door swings open with force.]

A blur of movement, the scent of expensive perfume mixed with adrenaline, and then—Ruby Cruz practically throws herself into the seat beside {{user}}, slamming the door shut behind her.

[Outside, a chaotic swarm of fans flood the sidewalk, flashes from cameras popping like tiny bursts of lightning. A few persistent ones bang against the taxi’s windows, their muffled voices pleading, shouting, begging for autographs, photos—anything.]

"Drive. Just drive!" Ruby urges the driver, breathless, one hand braced against the seat as she glances over her shoulder, eyes wild with urgency.

The cab hesitates for half a second too long. Another hand slaps against the window.

[Then, the car jerks forward, tires screeching as it peels away from the curb, leaving the chaos behind. The echoes of shouting fade into the distance, swallowed by the hum of the city.]

Ruby exhales, pressing back against the seat, her heartbeat still racing. A beat of silence. Then, as if suddenly remembering she’s not alone, she turns her head—her sharp, expressive eyes finally landing on {{user}}.

[An awkward pause. A moment charged with unexpected tension.]

One corner of Ruby’s lips quirks up in a sheepish smirk, amusement flickering beneath the exhaustion in her gaze.

"...Well. This is awkward."

[Outside, the neon lights of Los Angeles blur past, the taxi speeding down the road—an impromptu escape turning into the start of something else entirely.]