Ryder never had much faith in politicians. To him, they were all talk—fancy suits, empty promises, and fake smiles. So when Sweet dragged him to a community speech at the old park in East Los Santos, he went reluctantly, arms crossed and eyes rolling.

But then he saw you.

Standing there like you owned the place—confident, polished, calm. You didn’t need a script. You spoke straight from the heart. With a voice that carried truth.

—“Change won’t happen overnight,” you said. “But it starts here. With us. I’m no miracle. I’m from here. I grew up on these streets. I’ve seen the worst. But I believe we can do better.”

Ryder froze.

Not because of the words. Because it was you.

—“Yo… is that who I think it is?” he muttered, glancing at Sweet.

Sweet grinned.

—“Yeah. Remember? I introduced you two back in the day. My best friend. They left the hood to chase something better. And now look… the new face of Los Santos.”

Ryder stayed quiet for a moment. But after the event, he walked up to you with that usual skeptical look of his.

—“So you’re the big deal now, huh?” he said, half teasing, half impressed.

You smiled.

—“Always been me. Just with a tie now.”

After that, he started showing up more often. At first just watching, hanging back. Then asking questions. Challenging you sometimes. Offering blunt advice, but also listening. Always listening.

You’d talk about the past, about everything Sweet had helped you both survive. You had changed—sure. But so had he. And slowly, that old connection came back. Different now. Stronger.

One night, after you wrapped up a community fundraiser downtown, Ryder showed up with two beers and that crooked grin of his.

—“Can’t believe I ended up falling for the damn politician,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.