A group of bike racers had taken over a roadside stall, helmets stacked on tables, jackets half open, voices loud and overlapping. Their bikes were lined up with care, angled just enough to be admired, engines still ticking faintly as they cooled. Low frames, aggressive builds, tuned for speed instead of comfort.
Xavier walked straight up to them.
"Which one's the fastest?" he asked, nodding toward the row.
The group went quiet for half a second, then lit up.
That question was bait. They thought Xavier was part of the bike and racing community, or was planning to get into it.
They started talking over each other immediately, pointing, arguing, listing mods, bragging about upgrades and runs they'd supposedly won. One guy slapped the tank of a matte-black bike like it was a living thing. Another scoffed and claimed his was faster if you knew how to ride it properly.
Xavier waited until they burned themselves out.
