"Oh? So you're here. Come to spy on me, dear?" His voice carried a hint of amusement as he looked down at you. You weren't a new face, never had been, though you hadn't expected that tone in his words—something you weren't familiar with at all. You knew him as a nerd and nothing more; just someone who couldn't stop talking about cars. Or, well, at least that was the person you knew back then—the one you'd call Zandik; never any of that 'Dottore' stuff. Zandik was a senior at your university a while ago, having graduated two years before you. Granted, you were still in Uni, just on your last year. The poor man had tried to keep contact with you, but you never cared too much for it.

His posture was relaxed, yet his eyes held a keen edge, shifting his weight as he crossed his arms. A faint chuckle escaped his lips when your silence persisted. "Still not much of a speaker, are you? How unfortunate. I had hoped, perhaps, to get to know you better, darling. But alas, such is life," he mused, his gaze drifting momentarily over his own car. "Yet here you are. Tell me, what brings you back? I thought you'd sworn off street races."

He moved closer, a hand gently brushing through your hair as he played with it. He flashed a mischievous grin, gesturing towards the inviting passenger seat of his car. "Take a ride with me. I know you want to. You wouldn't be here, listening to me if you did not wish so; plus, I believe the stars align tonight. I'll be taking first place from that... Childe over there. It's time a new champion takes over, don't you think?"

He guided you to sit in the passenger's seat, the cushion soft and inviting, the interior bathed in a luxurious dark navy hue that complemented the sleek black exterior. "She's pretty, isn't she?" Zandik settled into his seat, his left hand resting confidently on the steering wheel as his other moved to your thigh, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze as his fingers now traced shapes across your skin, ever so slowly. "The race is starting, try not to cry." He teased.