“Miss Ryou!” You turn your head. Coming towards you was Mokuba’s brother. Half-jogging half-striding his way over. ‘What could he want?’ You wondered curiously. Turning around, you backtracked your steps and met him halfway to the door. “Yes? Did I forget something?” You ask as you began to open your handbag zipper, making sure nothing had fallen out. “No.” He replied, looking down at you slightly. “I would just like to thank you. You saved my brother’s life. If it hadn’t been for you........well. I don’t like to think of the probable outcome.” He completed. You looked up at him. He did seem sincere. Although he had ignored you, it was probably just worry for his brother. If that had happened to your little sister, you would have had eyes for nobody else. “How could I do anything else? I was simply in the right place at the right time. All that matters now is that he’ll be okay.” Your response seemed to have thrown him off. Maybe he was expecting you to say something else? His eyes grew slightly wider, but only barely, and his mouth opened. For, what felt like the millionth time that night, he studied you with his eyes. All the while closing his mouth slowly, and replacing his widened eyes with a slight frown. Finally, he looked back at your eyes and held your gaze. He opened his mouth once again. But not in shock. “That may be so. But it doesn’t change what you did for Mokuba. And for that, we are indebted to you.” You smiled at him and shook your head. “Again, it’s what any decent person would have done.” He grunted an agreement. Overhead you glimpsed at the clock hanging from above the doorway. 25 past 1 in the morning. He caught you looking above his head and turned to see at what. When he saw the clock he understood. As he turned back to you, you yawned. Just a confirmation of what he had been thinking.”You’re tired.” He stated. It wasn’t a question. “Yeah-huh.” You mumbled through the yawn. You raising your hand in politeness, to your mouth. “Hmm.......” he mused. You could see he wanted to be rid of you. “I’d better go. You’ll want to get back to Mokuba.” You said as you reopened your handbag. He said nothing, merely continued to watch you as you retrieved your purse. “Well, good night.” You bid him farewell as you twisted round and walked to the edge of the sidewalk. You put out your right hand and raised your thumb. The signal for a Taxi. Seto, who still hadn’t gone back inside, realised what you were doing. He walked forwards towards you, hesitantly. “May I offer you a ride?” You didn’t quite understand what he meant. Obviously your confusion had shown on your face as he smirked and asked again, “Shall I give you a ride home? In my car?” That you understood. “Oh.” Now you felt like a complete idiot. “Um, no. I’m fine thank you. I’ll get a Taxi.” You smiled politely to him. He frowned again. “I don’t particularly trust Taxi drivers. Or getting in a car with any type of stranger, for that matter.” It was your turn to frown. “Why not?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Well, for the obvious reasons. They’re cheats. Sometimes they over charge you on purpose.” He said as he pointed to your purse. “Or they could be drunk, murderers, kidnappers, suicide-bombers. Take your pick. But don’t let me stop you. That is, unless you like to get raped by complete strangers in the middle of the night.” Your jaw hung limp. Eyes wide. How could one adolescent male make you feel so uncomfortable and vulnerable? He simply smirked again at your expression. “I.......um......they.......um......” you mumbled pathetically. “I’ll go and tell Mokuba I’m leaving. My car is the red one over there.” He had a smug look on his face, as he pointed behind you. You turned around and saw only one car in the Visitors Parking Lot. “Go and wait by it. I’ll be out in a moment.” And with that, he retraced his steps back into the Hospital. You were dumbstruck. You just stood there, frozen. It was another moment before you realised you still had your arm raised for a Taxi. Lowering it, you proceeded to go over to his car. It was dark, so you couldn’t see it very clearly from afar. But up close, the Hospital lights were enough to make it out. The red Mercedes Convertible, with platinum wheels and fade-out tinted windows, was the most breathtaking car you had ever seen. It was gorgeous. Custom paint job, Excel Carbonator for maximum speed and accuracy. “He’s even got an Intel point-for-point illuminator.....” you half-gasped, half-sighed. “Very observant, aren’t we.” Seto said, as he came up next to you. “Wow. Nice ride.” You admired, looking up at him out of the corner of your eye. He simply looked at you again. The car beeped all of a sudden. Taking you by surprise. “Get in.” He ordered. ‘Jeez. Pushy.’ You thought. You joined him in opening the passenger seat of the car, as he entered on the driver’s side.
Everything was a blur. You were speeding along the motorway, as Seto drove you home. The Hospital was quite a long way away from your apartment. The buildings were indistinguishable. As you gazed out the window you felt as though you were watching a blender. The contents being whisked around so rapidly, they were impossible to distinguish. You began to feel sick so you tore your sight away from the window and decided to strike up a conversation. “I can’t wait for the weekend,” you sighed, as you imagined what you would do with Laurs and Michelle. “You?” Seto didn’t look at you as he replied, “I can’t see why I would?” You sat up straight in the white, faux-leather seats. “What, you don’t have any plans? Not going to enjoy your two-day escape to freedom?” you laughed. But Seto merely said, “What are the possible differences between a week-end day, and a week-day?” You frowned at him playfully. “But surely you enjoy the time off work a little? Or are you one of those work-aholics who never leaves the Office?” You joked, laughing again. “I don’t see what is so funny. And, is my occupation really any of your concern?” He inquired with a hint of annoyance. Abruptly, you stopped laughing. Looking away from him to stare at your lap you whispered, “No. No, I...... I suppose it’s not.” You leaned your head against the side of the seat-belt and closed your eyes. You only realised how tired you actually were. Considering it was almost two o’ clock in the morning, you were holding up pretty well. “What music do you listen to?” he asked you reluctantly, all of a sudden. You watched him out of the corner of your eye. ‘Are MY personal tastes any of YOUR concern?’ you felt like saying, but decided to be, somewhat, polite. “Anything really. I have a mixed taste in music.” “How do you mean?” You smirked to yourself as he sounded slightly confused. “I might like......an Opera song, but I also might like its opposite. For example, Rap or something.” You went through songs in your mind. “Like what for instance?” he wondered. “Well,” you thought of your favourite bands and singers. “I like.....Eminem, but I like....Westlife. They’re a popular Irish Boy Band.” You explained as a bewildered look settled on his face. “Westlife. They sang.....Home, or something or other?” He thought out-loud. “Yeah. They specialise in love songs and soft music. Very much unlike Eminem.” You smiled as you thought about what a weird blend of music you’re into. “And....... what else?” He asked hesitantly, not far from a whisper. “Nickelback or Fall Out Boy.........compared tooooo......Leona Lewis or........Kelly Clarkson? They’re sort of different.” You said as you struggled to find another comparison. “I even like Andréa Bocceli.” You decided you had said enough and attempted to switch the conversation topic on him. “What music do you like, then?” As you said this he immediately tensed up, and his grip tightened around the steering wheel. You waited in the uncomfortable silence, for an answer. After a few moments you sighed and leaned back into your seat. “Similar.” He whispered. You watched him curiously as he continued to drive. He hadn’t looked at you once. Never taking his eyes off the road. You supposed, in a way, that that was a good thing. But the way he resisted to speak, or be in the Spotlight in any way, unnerved you. You knew it wasn’t because he was shy. Or because he didn’t know what to say. He made you feel as if, the reason he wasn’t willing to pay you any attention, was because you weren’t a good enough reason for him to bother.
