(During Issue 10 Will rescues Cornelia from agents)
"Who is it?" Nigel asks as Taranee approaches him.
"It's Will." Irma replies with concern as she shoves her phone back to her back pocket. "It's an emergency, I need to get to Elyon's place in a hurry!"
"Yet we're almost a kilometer away from your house, to get you on your bike." Nigel looks behind. 'Looks like Eric's operation is about to start!'
"And if I walk there, it'll take another half an hour or so." She worriedly says as she takes her leave. "Well I better run! See you—"
"Hold on!" Nigel stops her as he gets on his bike. "Hop on! I'll take you there in a jiffy!" he pats on the top tube or crossbar of his bike.
"B—But..." Taranee mumbles. "I don't even know how to sit on there. Besides, we might fall or I might be to heavy—"
"Nonsense!" Nigel stops her with a big boastful grin on his face and points his thumb at himself. "Just sit here and leave the rest to me!"
"Umm…o-okay." Taranee smiles back at Nigel's honest gesture. She innocently and gently sits on the top tube of his bike. She holds on to the bar handles and lifts her feet from the ground as she maintains her balance. She then suddenly feels the bike tilt as Nigel pushes his feet to the ground to push his bike forward and starts to pedal on his bike.
"W-woah!" Taranee wobbles on her seat and grips and squeezes on Nigel's arm frightened to fall off.
"Careful!" Nigel chuckles as he maintains the balance of the bike. "Just relax Taranee and don't think of anything peculiar! Trust me!" he comforts.
Taranee, who looks at Nigel's self-assertive confidence, then steadily relaxes herself as she loosens her grip on Nigel's arm and on the handle bars. Not only did she forget or fear a sense of falling but she feels kind of safe whenever she sees Nigel's comforting and assured presence.
"There you go! You did it!" he grins as he uses his other hand to pat on her head. "The only problem is you truly are this heavy—Ooww!"
Taranee cuts him off with a pinch on his arm, annoyed by his teasingly yet friendly joke.
Nigel continues in pain. "—I'm just only kidding! I'm kidding!" he cries out.
After a few minutes of sweet and romantic riding along the long stretched winding roads of Heatherfield, through the busy roads and the free lanes, they finally reach to the outskirts of the town, The Brown's Residence. As they nearly approach the house Taranee waves her hand at Hay Lin and Irma who waits outside the gate of the house.
"Elyon's place." Nigel says as he slows down his bike and stops on front of the gate as he rests his foot to the ground. 'Come to think of it, the last time I've been here was only hours ago!'
"Thanks for the ride." Taranee leaps off from the bike and shyly thanks him as she blushes from his one-of-a-kind act of romantic kindness.
"Oh don't worry about it!" he says as he waves his hand. "I'm actually worried that you might be late."
"Oh you're not." Irma approaches them with a kilig grin on her face as she approaches Nigel and pats him on the back. "Don't worry Mr. Knight-on-shining-bike! Thanks a lot for bringing her here."
"Sure!" Nigel replies with a smile as he rearranges his pedal. "Well I'm off now, take care!" he says as he launches his bike forward and waves his hand a good-bye gesture.
"Bye!" Taranee she says as the girls too wave their hands at him as he rides off far from them. Taranee still gazes at him at distance feels an elbow call from Irma.
"So do you have anything to tell us?" Iram winks her eye at her.
"Details! We want details!" Hay Lin excites and looks at her with extreme curiosity.
Taranee smiles and blushes as she recalls the ride. "Well I do wish the ride was much longer." The girls laugh and chuckle on their usual girl talk as they enter the Elyon's home as they wait for Will and Cornelia to arrive.
"Next stop, finding those agents!" Nigel says to himself with an energetic and motivated tone in his voice as he pedals back to his search on where he left on earlier. He suddenly hits on the breaks at a turn when he spots a dark green hooded figure that walks along the sidewalk. He stops and parks on front of him. The figure replies with an obvious startle and jerk. "Martin?" Nigel asks.
"N-Nigel?" Martin asks and stutters as he also as he removes his hoodie to the back. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be searching for the agents?"
"I did, yet Taranee and I bump into each other so—I umm…" Nigel bashfully looks away. "…I brought her here on my bike..."
"Wait! So you're official?" Martin asks interestingly. "That's sweet! While I stuck in the friendzone still have high hopes for my cupcake!"
"We're not official!" Nigel annoyingly denies as he crosses his arms. "And you? You still have to confirm to Eric, right? Taranee, Hay Lin and Irma are at Elyon's actually."
"Really? Well thanks for the info!" Martin says. "And by the way, according to Vathek who was told by Will, the agents are at Cornelia's condo."
"The agents are at Cornelia's? So how can she come out then without being followed?" Nigel asks. 'Seems like Lair was right all along about the agents tailing and suspecting her!'
"Vathek says Will has a plan to get her out of there." Martin replies as he recalls his conversation with him. "I think you better hurry."
Nigel nods as he launches his bike forward. "Before anything goes wrong." He then pedals his bike down the traffic road. "On the rush then! See you!"
"S-See you too!" Martin replies as he too rushes on his way to Elyon's.
'So I was wrong after all! He was chosen for the right reason after all!' Nigel then thinks about what he judged about Martin before as a geek and weak being and not worthy to receive such a 'Destined Tattoo.' Yet unexpectedly as he joined them, he learned to blend with their secrets and magical activities. Nigel has seen Martin's committed and developed performance to the legion. 'It's been only weeks since he first started and by the looks of it, Martin gets the hang of it! He really does have the potential to become one of us!'
'If he wants to though…' he says to himself as he sees beyond him an approaching purple compartment van, used by the Olsen's business.
