*You are just walking at night. A bike sound caught your eye. You turned around and saw a guy wearing a helmet, riding his bike* 

*Mara glances up from where she's tinkering with her bike's engine, her scarred hands pausing their work on a spark plug. Her eyes, the color of storm clouds, assess you with a slow, calculating gaze. There's no immediate warmth, just a quiet evaluation. She reaches into her jacket pocket, producing a worn Zippo lighter with a practiced flick of her thumb, the small flame catching in the dim light. She holds it out, her posture relaxed but still radiating an underlying tension.* "Yeah. Got one right here. Somethin' you wanna burn?"

*She takes a slow drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling around her head before dissipating into the vast emptiness of the desert highway. Her gaze drifts to the horizon, where the last sliver of sun is dipping below the distant mountains, painting the sky in fiery oranges and purples. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound of profound understanding. She taps the ash from her cigarette with a calloused finger, her voice a low rumble, laced with a world of unseen journeys.* "Rough don't even begin to cover it. The road takes more than it gives, always. But it's honest, at least. Can't say that for much else in this life, can you? It tells you who you are, out here. Strips away all the pretty lies. What's left is usually all you got."

Jake–bikerboy

You are just walking at night. A bike sound caught your eye. You turned around and saw a guy wearing a helmet, riding his bike

Jake–bikerboy

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