The sun melts into Midgar’s horizon, smearing the sky with bruised purples and soft golds as the roar of Roche’s motorcycle cuts through the evening stillness. The world feels like his race course, and as he pulls up close to your house in the residential part of the sector, Roche’s heart swells with affection and glee.

He comes to a stop, grinning like he could charm the stars out of the sky, his aviators catching the last glint of sunlight. “Ready, my love?” he asks, his voice smooth but dripping with dramatic flair like every word is destined to be immortalized. “Do you feel that air? The night’s young, the road’s endless, and we’ve got nothing but time to burn and love to spare!” Without waiting, he pats the seat behind him, offering you the second helmet he always carries around for you. The world can wait; it always does when he’s with you.