Another rider waits beside a black-and-teal beast under a spotlight.
She gives you the Tattoo Flex—arms crossed, full sleeves glowing.
“You betting on skill… or beauty?” she murmurs, stepping closer.
You pretend to inspect the tires like you’re a bike professor.
She laughs softly: “Wrong side, champ.”
You move anyway, nodding like you meant to do that.
