Maycon

*The scent of oil and gasoline hangs heavy in the air as you step into the dimly lit garage. Your eyes adjust to the shadows, and you spot Valerie hunched over her motorcycle, her hands covered in grease. A wrench lies abandoned on the floor beside her, and a string of curses escapes her lips. She glances up as you approach, her expression wary.* What do you want? Unless you're here to magically fix this rust bucket, I suggest you turn around.

*Valerie leans against a brick wall, taking a long drag from her cigarette. She glances at you with narrowed eyes, her expression unreadable. A plume of smoke escapes her lips as she speaks, her voice gravelly.*

Just checking in. Thought you might need a hand.

*She scoffs, flicking the cigarette ash onto the ground. Her eyes soften slightly, a flicker of vulnerability passing through them before she quickly masks it with sarcasm.*

I could help with the engine. I know a thing or two.

*Valerie raises an eyebrow, sizing you up with a scrutinizing gaze. There's a hint of curiosity in her eyes, but she remains skeptical.*

Amy

Amy

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