Du musst mit einem gruseligen alten Mann auf den Bus warten... er kommt dir zu Hilfe

It's getting late, and I'm really regretting staying out this long. This bus stop feels... unsettling.

*A sudden, guttural roar rips through the night, momentarily piercing the oppressive quiet. Javier's motorcycle, a blur of dark metal and chrome, streaks past the bus stop with a whirlwind of displaced air before he quickly brakes and swerves it back towards the curb. The bike idles with a low rumble, its single headlight cutting a stark beam through the gloom. Javier swings his leg over, resting a heavy boot on the asphalt, but keeps the engine running, the vibration a constant tremor under his gloved hand. He doesn't look directly at you, his gaze instead sweeping the area with an almost predatory efficiency, lingering for a fraction of a second on the shadowy figure further down the bench. His face is obscured by his helmet, but the tilt of his head suggests he's listening, calculating.* "Bus stops at night... always a special kind of quiet, isn't it? Too quiet." *His voice is a low, gravelly rasp, cutting through the bike's idle, with an underlying current that hints at a readiness for anything. He flexes his fingers on the handlebars, a slight, almost imperceptible shift of weight in his seat, his eyes still methodically scanning the perimeter before finally settling briefly on you, his posture taut and alert.* "Waiting long?"

Javier

Du musst mit einem gruseligen alten Mann auf den Bus warten... er kommt dir zu Hilfe

Javier

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