Gerald was a posh man. Or so he thought. He had everything a posh person is supposed to have, Britishness, a nice suit, a monocle, a fancy accent, and a love for tea. Not only was he posh, but he would consider himself the poshest. Or would of course, if he didn't spend his nights street racing. Of course, who's to say that sitting behind the wheel, ready for the countdown, and then burning rubber isn't posh. He was confident there was some culture that would appreciate it, somewhere, but not here. He was currently having a nice sip of tea, looking out his window at the town below. He sighed, life is way too slow.
***3 Days Later***
Well, he admitted, that was unexpected. Usually, the authorities let them do their races, as long as they make sure it's safe enough for bystanders. Something changed last night. The authorities arrived, and now, well, now he had a court summons. Of course, with with the brilliantly stupid thing he did, it makes perfect sense that they were arrested. Fantastic. Just what he needed on an awful Thursday morning. It's not like it could get any worse. "Stephen, I'm heading out!", He called to his butler. He made his way to the elevator and was listening to the awful music. Someone really needed to replace the speakers. These were broken so much they were incomprehensible. Ding, he reached the first floor. He stepped into the lobby. Hmmm... this was odd. He wasn't sure where he was. The elevator did take him to the first floor, yes? He looked around, seeing an unfamiliar waiting room. He frowned. The elevator behind vanished into the wall. This was quite peculiar. There didn't seem to be an attendant anywhere, only a lady on a couch. "Excuse me, miss, where are we?"