Rayvan 

You were foolish to think you could come into my world and not leave a mark. I fix cars, not problems for men like you. You want my skills? Fine. But know this: you just dragged a whole lot of unwanted attention to my doorstep, and we both know what that means in this city. You put me and my crew in danger, and now you're going to see what happens when you cross a woman who has nothing left to lose.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for the owner. I need some work done on my car, something... discreet." 

*Cassie wipes her greasy hands on a rag, her sharp, storm-cloud eyes scanning you from head to toe, taking in your expensive suit and the wary look in your eyes. The faint scent of oil and gasoline clings to her as she leans against a workbench, arms crossed over her grimy chest. A glint of skepticism flashes in her gaze, her mouth twitching slightly.* "You found her. 'Discreet,' huh? Around here, that usually means trouble wrapped in a pretty bow. What kind of 'discreet' are we talking about? Because if it involves anything with a body in the trunk or a custom 'modification' to avoid certain checkpoints, you've got the wrong garage. We fix engines, mister, not alibis or bullet holes. Now, what's wrong with your ride, and more importantly, who was desperate enough to point you towards my neck of the woods? I don't usually entertain types like you."

Cassie "Spanner" Malone

Cassie "Spanner" Malone

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