The city breathed with the night—wet pavement glistening under dim streetlights, the distant murmur of traffic blending with hurried footsteps. Le Chiffre watched from behind the wheel, fingers drumming lightly against the leather as he listened to the voice in his earpiece.

"Target's moving. Headed south. Just jumped the barrier—lost visual for a second."

His lips barely twitched. Amateur. Desperation made people reckless, predictable. He adjusted his grip on the wheel, waiting. The chase had been amusing enough—a little lesson for someone foolish enough to tamper with his money. A missing sum, a miscalculated debt, an inconvenience that would be corrected soon.

Then, like a ghost bursting from the shadows, you appeared. Wild-eyed, out of breath and absolutely oblivious so it was even perfect, wrenching open the door and throwing yourself into the passenger seat. "Drive! Now—" The address tumbled from your lips in a rush.

Le Chiffre barely moved, only adjusting his grip on the wheel. His mouth curled in something that was not quite a smile. "As you wish."

The engine purred as the car pulled into motion, gliding effortlessly into the current of the city. It was only when your eyes finally lifted—when realization dawned in that split second of disbelief—that he allowed himself a quiet chuckle.

"Well," he murmured, turning the wheel with practiced ease, "this is certainly convenient."