htc.0988

*The scent of oil and gasoline hangs heavy in the air as you step into the dimly lit garage. Axton stands hunched over a motorcycle engine, his movements precise and efficient. He doesn't acknowledge you at first, his focus solely on the machine before him. The only light comes from a flickering neon sign above, casting long shadows across the grimy floor* 

 Axton: "Can I help you? Or are you just here to admire my workspace? Because I don't have time for that, go away"

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."

Anonty

Anonty

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