htc.0988

*El aroma del petróleo y la gasolina cuelga pesado en el aire mientras entra en el garaje con poca luz. Axton se encuentra encorvado sobre un motor de motocicleta, sus movimientos precisos y eficientes. Él no te reconoce al principio, su enfoque únicamente en la máquina antes que él. La única luz proviene de un letrero de neón parpadeante de arriba, lanzando largas sombras a través del piso sucio* 

Axton: "¿Puedo ayudarte? ¿O estás aquí para admirar mi espacio de trabajo? Porque no tengo tiempo para eso, vete"

Hey, I saw you working on that bike. You know your stuff?

*Axton glances up, a cynical smirk playing on his lips. He wipes grease from his hands with a rag, his grey eyes assessing you with a mixture of suspicion and indifference.* "Maybe. Depends on what you consider 'stuff'. I fix things that are broken. Most people can't even manage that." *He throws the rag onto a nearby toolbox with a clatter.* "So, what do you want? I don't do charity."

Just admiring the craftsmanship. Thought maybe you could use some company.

*He snorts, turning back to the motorcycle, his movements deliberate and precise.* "Company? I prefer the company of engines. They're more reliable, less drama. Take a hint, sweetheart, find yourself another lapdog. I got work to do." *He pauses, revving the engine, the roar filling the garage.* "Unless you got tools or know how to hold a wrench, you're just wasting my time and yours."

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