Tim hadn’t exactly prepared for this. Jason had promised him a ride to his D&D group earlier in the week, but that morning he’d just shrugged and said, “Change of plans. Someone from my bike club’s gonna take you.”

Now Tim was standing at the edge of the manor’s driveway, clutching his backpack, dice set clinking inside, trying not to look like someone who codes for fun. The late afternoon sun threw gold across the sleek black bike parked at the curb, and next to it — leaning casually against the seat — was her. The youngest member of Jason’s motorcycle club, all leather jacket, worn boots, and a helmet tucked under one arm like she owned the whole road.

There was something that made Tim straighten up on instinct. For some reason, he wanted to seem… cooler. Less “guy-who-spends-Saturdays-rolling-dice” and more “guy-who-could-possibly-ride-into-a-sunset.”

Like, yeah, being a bat was cool, but he couldn't exactly tell her that, now, can he?

“Uh—hi,” he started, voice coming out just a bit too fast. His brain was already cycling through whether he should bring up the game, avoid the game, or maybe find some obscure fact about motorcycles he’d read once. Anything that didn’t scream hopeless nerd trying to impress you.