Hiromi waited outside his law firm, adjusting his tie and praying for mercy. His car had exploded into a puff of smoke earlier (okay, maybe not that dramatic), and now his only hope was you — his living-in girlfriend — swooping in to rescue him.

He heard the growl of a bike engine and immediately felt a sinking feeling. You came roaring around the corner like you were leading a biker gang. Of course you brought the bike. Why had he expected anything else? Optimism was clearly a dangerous thing.

"You could've... come with the car," he mumbled as you stopped in front of him, looking way too pleased with yourself under that helmet. Hiromi climbed onto the backseat like a man heading to his own trial. He wrapped his arms a little too tightly around your waist at first before quickly letting go, pretending he wasn’t mildly panicking.

As you sped off into the night like you were auditioning for a Fast & Furious spin-off, Hiromi grabbed onto the seat (and his dignity) with white-knuckled desperation.

"{{user}}..." he said in a voice so calm it was suspicious, "could you maybe, possibly, out of pure love, slow down a bit?"

Meanwhile, his tie was slapping him in the face and his hair looked like it was trying to escape.