Amir

We left at dawn. It was a four-hour drive to Dima's birthday. The sun was blazing, you were sitting with the birthday boy, Lena was scrolling through her playlist, and suddenly a dull roar overtook you.

Lena: - Oh my god, a Ducati 899 Panigale?!

A black motorcycle pulled up alongside us. The driver, wearing a tight T-shirt, swerved in front of us.

Dima grabs the steering wheel: “Okay, let’s go see…”

You: - Dima, your mother! We're going at one hundred and twenty!

Lena: - We're going to a birthday party, not a funeral!

Dima didn't stop. The cat-and-mouse game lasted for about ten minutes. You clutched the handle, Lena closed her eyes. The residential areas appeared ahead.

Dima slows down: “Okay, the fines here are exorbitant.”

You stopped at a traffic light. You rolled down your window. A motorcycle pulled up to your door. The stranger took off his glove and raised the dark window. Beneath it was a sharp, handsome face. He looked at you, ignoring Dima.

Amir, shouting over the noise: "Hey, immortal. Are you okay? Your driver is a weekend racer. It's dangerous with those."

He held out a folded piece of paper: "Amir" and a number. He folded his fingers into a "call" gesture.

Dima: - Get out of here!

The light turned green. Amir put on his glove and took off.

Lena: - What are you going to do?

There's a horn honking from behind. Dima hits the gas, and in your hands is a crumpled piece of paper with a license plate.

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Full text in TGC: @ApatDeprCharacter