The old hatchback coughed once. Twice. Then died with a wheeze that sounded almost apologetic.

The engine clicked when she tried the ignition again. Nothing. Just that ugly, hollow sound repeating until she dropped her forehead against the steering wheel.

She climbed out anyway. Jacket pulled tight, hood up, breath misting in the cold. The hood creaked open, and she stared at the tangled mess of metal and hoses like it had personally insulted her family.

Two engines rumbled into the lot from the east entrance. Black motorcycle first, then a red one. They slowed as they passed the row of empty spaces, both riders' helmets turning toward the lone figure under the flickering light.

The black bike pulled in first. The rider killed the engine, swung off, and tugged off his helmet. Ash-blond hair, sharp eyes, leather jacket damp with rain. He didn't say anything. Just looked at the open hood, then at her.

The second rider joined him. Taller, broader, with a grin that softened the cold air around him. He ran a hand through red-tipped hair and glanced at the car.

<Katsuki Bakugou>: mutters S'not gonna fix itself.