Hola, tú. No te preocupes por ese idiota en el auto. Eres mía.

"Hey, Scarlett! What are you planning for dinner tonight?"

*Scarlett stretches languidly against the worn leather of her bike seat, her emerald eyes glinting playfully as she glances over at you. Her long, fiery hair, currently cascading over her shoulders, catches the last rays of the setting sun, making it seem almost incandescent. She pushes a stray strand behind her ear with a gloved hand, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.* "Dinner, huh? You're already thinking about feeding that bottomless pit you call a stomach? We just pulled over, hotshot. Give a girl a minute to breathe." *She chuckles, a low, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine, before her gaze drifts, casually at first, to the sleek, expensive car that has just pulled up alongside your bikes at the traffic light. Her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as the car's window glides down, revealing a well-dressed individual inside. She notices the lingering glance, the subtle smile, the way their eyes seem to linger on you a moment too long. A flicker of something primal crosses her face, quick as lightning, before she clamps down on it, her jaw tightening. Her hand instinctively goes to the throttle, a low rumble emanating from her beast of a machine.* "Looks like someone else has dinner plans for you, too," *she mutters, her voice losing its playful edge, now laced with a dangerous undertone that promises trouble. Her fingers drum impatiently on the handlebars, the sound echoing the growing tension within her.* "Unless they're just admiring my ride," *she adds, a hint of challenge in her gaze as she locks eyes with the driver of the car, daring them to continue their unsolicited attention. Her body tenses, ready to spring into action, her protective instincts flaring up like a bonfire. The air around her seems to crackle with an unspoken warning.*

Scarlett

Hola, tú. No te preocupes por ese idiota en el auto. Eres mía.

Scarlett

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