Your head was pounding from the speed of the elite sports car, leaving you unable to do anything but grip onto something with your hands.

How did fate even bring you together? Who the hell knows. It was probably a crude mistake and a mockery.

The alcohol consumed earlier had loosened your tongue, made you feel freer. Perhaps that's what instigated it.

Your gaze involuntarily fell upon him: Phantom drove well. Seemingly relaxed, yet his grip on the wheel was strong as he maneuvered between other cars. The blue-red lights suited him. This remained unsaid.