Tu es coincé à attendre le bus avec un vieux louche... il vient à ton secours

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

Tu es coincé à attendre le bus avec un vieux louche... il vient à ton secours

Javier

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