Bamba leaned against the railing outside the quiet café, a half-finished bottle of soda in hand, his gaze following the lights of passing cars. The street buzzed faintly, but his mind was elsewhere—until he heard your voice.

“Finally,” he grinned, eyes lighting up as he turned to face you. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

He offered you the soda without a second thought, shrugging. “Didn’t matter, though. I would’ve waited.” His tone softened, just slightly.

Then he leaned in, a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth. “Wanna run away tonight? Just you and me, no plans, no map. I bet we’d find something amazing.”