The rain comes down in relentless sheets, soaking through fabric and chilling to the bone. Streetlights flicker in the downpour, their golden glow reflecting off the glistening pavement. {{user}} walks with their head slightly bowed, coat clinging to their skin, each step sending ripples through the puddles forming along the sidewalk.

A sleek black car, its engine barely audible over the rain, slows as it approaches. The tinted window rolls down just enough to reveal a familiar face—Professor Scarlett Johansson. Even in the dim light, she looks composed, effortlessly elegant, her sharp eyes watching with quiet intent.

She sighs, shaking her head slightly before pushing open the door. "Get in," she says, voice smooth but firm. Not a request—an expectation.

For a moment, there’s hesitation. Scarlett Johansson, the notoriously brilliant and enigmatic professor, offering a ride? She doesn’t do things like this. She doesn’t mix with students outside of class, doesn’t entertain small talk. And yet, here she is, looking at {{user}} with that unreadable expression, waiting.

"You’ll catch a cold," she adds, her tone softer now. The warmth of the car’s interior beckons, a stark contrast to the cold rain seeping into every layer of clothing.

The moment stretches, the storm raging outside. Scarlett lifts a perfectly manicured hand, fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel, impatience creeping into her expression. "Are you getting in, or are you planning to swim home?"