Rimelion: The Exploiter

43. The Unexpected Detour

Turning back, I caught his gaze. The light from the bar framed his familiar figure, his expression softer than usual. I gave him a small nod, my lips curving into a faint smile. "I will, Patrick. Promise."

The outside had a chill that nipped at your skin but wasn't enough to make you shiver. I hugged myself lightly, watching the quiet street. It wasn't long before an Italian sports car pulled up near me.

Or at least, what used to be a sports car—thirty years ago.

Now, it looked like it had been rebuilt forty times over, its mismatched paint job gleaming under the streetlights.

The engine gave a growl, a little too loud to be normal, while the passenger door swung open with a metallic creak, and the driver leaned across the seat, calling out in a heavy Italian accent, "Hop in, signorina!"

I hesitated, eyeing the car suspiciously. The app insisted this was my ride, but the dented exterior and slightly crooked bumper explained the four-star rating. With a deep breath, I stepped inside, careful not to snag my dress on the doorframe.

The interior was surprisingly clean, though a faint, strange aroma lingered—a mix of air freshener, old leather, and something vaguely floral. "Riker's Tower," I said, settling in.

"Naturalmente! Tüber—ditch the Tube, embrace the über ride!" he declared with a wide grin, gesturing dramatically. "Mi spiace, corpo's orders!"

I stifled a laugh, more amused by his energy than the cheesy slogan. "That's fine," I murmured, glancing out the window as he pulled onto the street. "Tüber is the cheapest..." My voice trailed off as the car sped up, zipping past AI-driven vehicles.

For plausible deniability, I deliberately avoided looking at the speedometer.

"But you get the best ride! And service! Like you'd expect from Roberto. That's me, by the way!" Roberto grinned again.

"I'm Charlie... Anyway..." I said awkwardly, desperate to shift the topic. "Are you often at the pub? Do you know John?" The memory of that night when he'd lost a bet to us floated to the surface.

"Bel nome! That one? A few times, yeah. Reason I'm nearby. Why?" Roberto's voice carried a hint of suspicion, his eyes narrowing briefly.

"That's me!" I blurted out before I could stop myself, stumbling over the explanation. "I mean... I was. Fully changed now... uhmm..."

We were approaching a stoplight, and Roberto suddenly slammed the brakes, sending me jolting forward slightly. He spun around in his seat, his eyes full of disbelief. "You? Ma tu... bellissima! You mean... full?"

"Yes," I groaned, slapping my forehead in frustration. Why did I even bring this up? "Period and all. That's right now. Remember that night you said you could bench more than us? Cheeky, weren't you?"

Roberto threw his head back in laughter. The light turned green, and he hit the gas, accelerating smoothly like a seasoned pro. "Ah, si! I remember! You could do the keg on a stool, not fair!"

"Hmpf! Two kegs, actually," I corrected him with a pointed look. "Check your memory."

"Dio mio, you're impossible!" he exclaimed, still grinning, his voice full of teasing. "But bravo, signorina. I remember."

His eyes flicking briefly toward me. His gaze lingered for a moment, taking in my dress. "You Riker's usual?"

I shook my head, already expecting the commentary.

"Pensavo! Don't get me wrong," he continued, gesturing cheerfully, "but your clothes... sono troppo plain for that place."

"I don't mind, I know that," I replied, smoothing the wrinkles in my dress, suddenly more aware of them. "You know... I was at that pub, but this is a kind of emergency." I shifted slightly in my seat. "My friend asked me to meet someone there, and I had to leave on short notice..."