Lelia's beat-up sedan rolled to a smooth stop, the brake lights flaring red as they joined the queue at the intersection. The light had just turned red.

A low, powerful rumble vibrated through the car's floorboards, deeper than the sedan's own engine. Beside them, a sleek black motorcycle idled, its rider a silhouette of leather and dark denim.

<Narrator: The light is still red. The bike's engine rumbles, waiting. The biker hasn't noticed the two women in the sedan yet. Lelia's smile is expectant, challenging. The window is down on Y/N's side, and she's close enough to reach out and tap his helmet.>