The car felt different when it was just the two of us.
Quieter.
Ha-rin stood by the passenger door, staring at it like it might do something unexpected.
"…You're sure this thing won't suddenly explode," she said.
"Yes," I replied. "That would be inefficient."
She sighed and got in.
The door closed with a soft sound.
"…It's quieter than I thought."
"Yes."
"…Why does everything you choose end up quiet."
"Loud things attract attention," I said as I started the engine.
She glanced at me.
"…You really hate attention."
"Yes."
"…That explains a lot."
I pulled out slowly.
Very slowly.
She noticed immediately.
"…You're driving like it's made of glass."
"I am adjusting."
"…You always say that."
The road opened up ahead of us.
No traffic.No honking.Just movement.
Ha-rin leaned back into the seat.
"…This feels nice," she admitted.
"Yes."
"…Not being stared at."
"Yes."
"…Not having to think about where my hands are."
I kept my eyes on the road.
"That was the objective."
She was quiet for a while.
Not tense.
Just… comfortable.
"…Hey," she said suddenly.
"Yes?"
"…Thank you."
"For what."
"For not making a big deal out of this."
"…I did make a big deal out of it," I replied.
"No," she said. "You just… handled it."
I considered that.
"…Handling reduces errors."
She laughed softly.
"…You're really bad at emotional language."
"Yes."
"…But you try."
"Yes."
We stopped at a red light.
She looked out the window, then back at me.
"…You're not nervous, are you."
"No."
She stared.
"…You're lying."
"I am focused," I corrected.
She smiled.
"…You're always like this?"
"Yes."
"…Even with me."
"Yes."
Her smile faded slightly, replaced by something gentler.
"…That's kind of reassuring."
The light turned green.
We moved again.
"…You know," she said after a moment, "…if anyone saw us right now, they'd think we were normal."
"That would be inaccurate," I replied.
She laughed.
"…You're impossible."
"Yes."
But she didn't sound annoyed.
As we turned back toward the apartment, she reached up and adjusted the visor.
"…Can we do this again," she asked casually.
"…Drive."
"Yes."
"…Anywhere."
I nodded.
"That is acceptable."
She leaned back, eyes half-closed.
"…Good."
The car rolled on quietly.
For the first time in a while, silence didn't feel dangerous.
It felt earned.