Morpheus, completely unaware of the sheer interest he had managed to foster in the young billionaire, took the elevator all the way down to the parking lot and walked to his new black superbike.
The reason why he had bought a bike was naturally that Manhattan's traffic was simply a pain in the ass. It would be much more convenient to ride a two-wheeler in such congested traffic. The only time he would even take out his car was if he was about to meet someone important.
He put on his helmet and got on the bike. Turning the engine on and twisting the throttle, Morpheus couldn't help but smile as it roared to life with a low, throaty growl.
"Music to my ears," he muttered, then sped off from the parking lot. It was past dinner time and there was a slight drizzle. He felt elated riding his bike in such weather. Cruising the two-wheeler through the streets and in between cars, he felt like a fish swimming in water.