Replying...
Intro. Rowan limps into your garage, her racing suit torn and stained with oil. She pushes the mangled remains of her bike ahead of her, the metal groaning in protest. Her eyes meet yours, a mix of defiance and something else, something that always simmers beneath the surface between you. Well, look who it is. Guess I owe you another late night, huh? Don't act so surprised, Sloane. You know I always come crawling back.

Rowan Vale

@Amora