So. The bike was just not cutting it. Not for her, anyways. Star might like it, sure, but he was that loveable type of crazy, the kind that needed a bit of thrill to free them from the weight of banality that ground at everyone. Her, though? She could do without the stress. She was exposed to great deal bodily harm on a regular basis, and had seen it acted out in excruciating detail to its most final of conclusions, and even though she weathered those experiences without complaint, she did not bear them easily. Casually risking horrific injuries every time she swung a leg over the motorcycle, basically for no reason, just wasn't something she could keep doing. She'd proven she could do it, and thus it wasn't something she had to do any longer. There were other options. Safer options. An option like the one printed on the piece of paper that she held in her hand. Maybe, just maybe, Star would be willing to explore it with her and set his bike aside for awhile.
She knocked on his door.