Okay so I saw a prompt and I wanted to do this.

Human!AU sometime during the timeline where Sylvia first met Wander. The way I wrote this fic, I'm sorta making some headcanons here and idk, I might even turn into a full blown story if I get my stuff together(?)

Sylvia kept her eyes on the road. It was the right thing to do, when you were driving a motorcycle this fast. 'Sides, this road was lonely, so there would be no one to take her to the hospital if she accidentally crashed because she wasn't concentrating or something.

She needed to concentrate.

She couldn't turn back. She wasn't going to turn back, not when she'd gotten this far. Not when she was this close to freedom.

She couldn't believe she'd let them lead her on this long. She had such a demented sense of justice now, what was right was now wrong, what was wrong, right. She didn't really have a clear sense of direction right now either, but she knew was never going back to that twisted life.

Maybe she should settle down and become a farmer?

A high-pitched scream broke her out of her thoughts (great, she wasn't concentrating) and made her swerve violently to the left, just avoiding the pedestrian's foot. She stopped the motorcycle and removed her helmet to see if she had hit anything.

As far as she could see, nothing was damaged, except maybe the poor guy's mental state. He was pressed up against his parked van, shivering all over. She couldn't see his face properly, but if she had to guess his expression would be similar to the old cartoons she'd catch glimpses of: eyes bulging, pale face, and chattering teeth. Probably his closest brush with death. Lucky guy.

"Oh, sorry there," she said. "Are . . . you okay?"

He was looking towards her now, guessing from the angle of his hood. He quickly arranged himself and tried to strike what Sylvia assumed was supposed to be a normal pose. He cleared his throat. "So . . . what did you say?"

"I asked if I hit you with my motorcycle."

"Well, yeah. you did. But in that case," he put one hand on his van and the other on his hip. Oh glorp. Classic flirting sign. "I guess you could say I was . . . struck by cupid's motorcycle."

Sylvia blinked and groaned loudly. She did not have time for this. "So just to be clear, I didn't hit you, right?"

"Well, yeah, I sorta got struck by love-"

"Yeah, that's nice." Sylvia jumped on her motorcycle. Oh please don't tell me he has a category of pick-up lines for the occasion where he almost gets run over by a motorcycle.

"Well, there are no serious injuries, but I could you could say I sustained a few when I . . ."

Oh glorp no. She started her bike. If he dare say it . . .

"Fell for you."

This was it. The moment in her life where she had been reduced to this; to shamelessly endure pick-up lines on the side of the road. She had the urge to tie his hood around his neck and throw him through the window of his stupid red van. She didn't have time for that, though. The quicker she got off this planet, the better. She took a deep breath and looked forward.

"Get something to do with your florpin' life instead of flirting with random people on the side of the road."

She took off on her motorbike.

She kept her eyes on the road.