I was bombarded by his confessions but I finally discovered the real Nick which I desired to ascertain. The Nick I used to know, the one I met in Versace bomber jacket who wounded Abs' forearm, the one I confronted by the Business School porch and the one who attacked me were nothing compared to the real Nick that took me in when I fell from Abs' even if he was crying his emotions out in front of me. He was repressed by his dark identity that came from his wretched past which I don't think it is fair for him to move on this way. Furthermore, I think this was what Milla wanted me to discover.

"Hey, you're an invincible forgivable guy," I leaned closer, coaxing him. "Sure you can get yourself out of this."

"No son of Hussaini Pholadi can escape from this shit, especially when he is the only child," Nick said bluntly.

"How about escaping to Haiti and Syria and resume your volunteering work?" I asked. "You love volunteering right?"

"That's all my mother entrusted me with," he said quietly, mouth trembled into a few more whimpers. "I'm weak without her, I don't think I can move on."

"Come on, you're the strongest person I've even known after my grandad and me of course," I cajoled, wiping his tears with my thumb and kissed his wet nose. He forced himself a smile and chuckled to my cynical remark. I stretched my arms around him while he let me embrace him until I can no longer hear his cries. "I love you, Nick Pholadi."

His damped beautiful hazel eyes slowly shifted into mine. "How much?"

"If Morales was alive, I'll take him down for you," I pledged.

"Please don't talk bullshit," he snickered. "You can just say you would do something hypothetical likebringing the world to me, I'd still accept it."

I giggled, feeling relieved to see the healthy colour glowed in his face. I clasped my hands in his and kissed the back of his hand. "Does it make you feel horny if I call you Ne'matullah?"

"No," he said abruptly before slowly reevaluating his answer. "I don't know, maybe. Why?"

"I think I'm horny right now," I smiled slyly.

"Nope, not here," he shook his head immediately. "I don't want to come here the next day and look at this sofa differently."

"Okay, we need to get you home but I need to get rid of that musty blanket before your gossip crew finds it the next morning and spilling tea all over this office," I told him, pulling the stained blanket away. "Where's your shirt anyway?"

"No shirt," he replied shortly.

"So you're saying that you came here in your sweatpants barefooted?" I asked in alarm. He nodded. "You're mental! I'm going to clean you whole."

"I'll be honoured if you do," Nick beamed. "But you need to take the wheel for me."

"You're still paralysed?" I cocked my eyebrows, feeling worried.

"Not really but I just recovered from electric shock. What do you think?"

"But you said it was a small current," I argued.

"Apparently that small current was capable of sending painfully severe shock to my muscle tissue 'till I'm completely knackered."

"Okay," I withdrew my breath. "What's available outside?"

"Jagger and Spidey," he answered cheekily.

"Which one would you recommend?"

"Which one are you confident to drive?" he asked back.

"Are they manual or auto?" I responded.

"Why don't you take a gander at them?" he suggested.

So I did, marching out towards both of Nick's Jaguar X351 and McLaren 675LT Spider as they parked side by side by the porch waiting for me to assess them while Nick rested inside the office. For as long as I can remember riding shotgun with him, I never bothered to appreciate any of the ultra-modern features in any of his rides except for enjoying their speed and his inexorable playlist of mellow songs.

I noted that both cars have no gear stick wedged in between the passenger and the driver seat. I recalled X351 had a radio-knob-like gear selector but all I saw was a flat round shaped rotary gear selector nestled inside the lower centre panel with Park, Reverse, Neutral, Drive and Sport indicator written in its respective initials arranged accordingly above it. The 675LT Spider however, had its gear selector in a form of buttons positioned vertically with emergency signal on top, followed by Drive, Neutral and Reverse.

"For Jagger, the rotating gear knob will pop up after you start the engine," Nick explained after I returned from my inspection. "Then you just rotate the knob like you would usually do when you want to crank up a volume. But if it doesn't elevate, you can still twist the knob like normal."

"Erm... It's okay, we'll go for Spidey then. That one looks less complicated," I retreated. He rolled his eyes upwards, letting out a heavy annoyed sigh. "I can drive a car, Nick. I just can't drive yours," I defended.

"They're just like any other cars, easy peasy. Even a five-year-old can drive them. You'll do fine," Nick assured. "But make sure you apply the brake pedal when you want to select the gears. And also to be mindful of its speed. You can use the gear shift pedals on the steering wheel to control them. Left pedal to reduce the gear, right pedal is for otherwise. Applies for both cars."

"Can we take Uber instead?" I squealed, realising that his instructions gave me the hibbie jibbies.

"Can you not be an idiot?" he snapped.

"What if I scratch any one of them? Will that cost me three months of my salary?"

"Zahida, I don't care if the wheels fall off, you're far more valuable than all three of my cars combine," he said wearily under his breath.