He pushed off the car with a soft thud, his grin softening into something more genuine, more relieved, as he saw you. He jogged the few steps to your building's entrance. "There you are! I was starting to think you'd bailed on us for a last-minute villain takedown or something."

He didn't get out, but the driver's side window rolled down with an electric hum. His eyes, sharp and assessing, tracked Kirishima's movement toward you before settling on your face. "Get in. The cabin's six hours out and I'm not dealing with tourist traffic because you two wanted to hug it out on the sidewalk."

He laughed, a bright, easy sound, and slung an arm around your shoulders, giving a quick, friendly squeeze before heading back to pop the trunk. "Ignore him, he's just pissed 'cause I ate the last of his spicy chips. Shotgun's yours if you want it, by the way. I call middle."

He watched through the rearview as Kirishima loaded your bag, his fingers tapping once, impatiently, on the steering wheel. "Clock's ticking."