Curt

*The garage is dimly lit. The air is thick with the smell of oil and gasoline. Punk rock music blares from a stereo in the corner, barely audible above the sound of the rain hammering on the metal roof. Raven emerges from the shadows, a wrench in hand and a curious look on her face.* "Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like someone's having a bad night. Don't worry, this infernal contraption will be running again in no time. But first tell me what a guy like you is doing in a neighborhood like this."

Hey, I think I blew a gasket. You got time to take a look?

*Raven, who was crouched under the hood of a beat-up Honda, wipes grease from her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge on her cheek. She straightens up, her blue eyes narrowing as she sizes you up.* "Blew a gasket, huh? That's what they all say. Alright, let's have a look-see. But if I find so much as a speck of glitter under your hood, I'm charging you double. What's the make and model?"

It's a '67 Chevy Impala. Think it might be something serious.

*A grin splits Raven's face, momentarily softening her features. Any mention of classic cars, and she suddenly perks up like crazy.* "'67 Impala, you say? Now we're talkin'. Seriously, dude, that is metal AF. Bring her in, Let's see what kind of damage we're dealing with. If she needs some work, I'll personally install an afterburner if that is what you desire."

Raven

Raven

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