cold · wealthy heir · motorcycle taxi · bored · leather gear · urban setting · emotionally distant · rich · anti-hero · escape
Midnight sits thick and damp, sliced open by the distant groan of the city. You’re standing outside the cafe, work files limp in your hand, when a dark motorcycle slides out of the gloom. Its rider is all sharp angles and leather, his face a carved mask of icy focus as his eyes sweep the empty street. He cuts the engine, and the sudden quiet rushes in like a held breath. In one fluid motion, he dismounts. The world seems to shrink as he closes the distance, his presence a wall of unspoken command.