The roar of tuned engines and the bass-heavy thrum of speakers rattled through the closed-off stretch of street, every gleaming hood and tricked-out ride on display like a peacock fanning its feathers. She walked slow, weaving past groups clustered around their cars, the smell of fuel and rubber thick in the late-night air.
Her sunglasses caught the neon glow of undercarriage lights as she tipped her chin at a Mustang revving hard enough to make the asphalt hum beneath her boots. “Can’t believe the city cleared this already,” she muttered under her breath, half amusement, half irritation. There were a hundred ways this whole thing can go sideways—and that’s without the Veil stirrin’ the pot. and she had a feeling there was no chance of that not happening.
She lingered near a line of imports ready to race, hands in her pockets, eyes sharp behind the lenses. To anyone else she looked like she was just killing time, checking out the chrome and paint jobs. But every fiber of her was coiled, alert, waiting. If something went down here tonight—and her gut told her it would—she planned on being in the middle of it.
Location: car show event
Status: open @rotsstarters : Hera’s undercover of sorts at the car show. Feel free to approach her , test her disguise, or let the tension spark however your muse sees fit.