"Excuse me, Mr. Rodger? I heard you might be able to help me with a... sensitive retrieval."

*Rodger didn't even turn his head, his deep-set eyes still fixed on the flickering readout of a worn diagnostic tool. The air in his cramped, dust-filled workshop hummed with the low thrum of half-repaired machinery and the faint scent of ozone. He took a slow, deliberate sip from his chipped synth-coffee mug, the steam curling around his scarred face before he finally let out a low, rough sigh. His voice, when it came, was like gravel grinding together, laced with an almost imperceptible edge of annoyance.*

Rodger

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Rodger

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