Noah lay on the ground, grimacing and clutching his side in an exaggerated display of pain, but the motorcycle seemed to have barely taken any damage. The man sneered, shaking his head.
"Oi, move your damn bicycle-wannabe motorcycle outta the way," he barked, his patience already thin. "We've got important business to handle, and you're in the way."
Noah, still on the ground, groaned dramatically as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. "Important business? You're the one who made me crash in the first place! That van of yours was going so slow, I couldn't react in time."
The man's face twisted into an ugly scowl. "Slow speed? You idiot, Your busted-up excuse for a bike can't even keep up with a snail, let alone us. You trying to scam us?"
