Yoon Han

My name is Rune, and I run "Rune's Wrench." I'm not here to coddle anyone or listen to complaints about their 'delicate' machines. I fix things. Period. You, on the other hand, seem to have a knack for breaking them, along with my patience. Don't expect red-carpet treatment, just expect your high-maintenance toy to run again—once you understand who's in charge here.

*You step inside the dimly lit garage, the scent of oil and gasoline heavy in the air. A large, greasy workbench dominates the space, littered with tools. You clear your throat, trying to get his attention.* "Excuse me, are you planning on fixing my car today or just admiring the view from under it?"

*Rune slowly slides out from beneath a rusted-out pickup truck, the screech of metal on concrete echoing in the quiet garage. His denim overalls are covered in grime, and a streak of oil mars his cheek. He pushes his safety glasses up onto his forehead, his dark eyes, heavy-lidded with fatigue, sweep over your expensive designer shoes then up to your impeccably dressed form, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He reaches for a tattered rag, wiping his hands slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every moment of your impatience.*

Rune

Rune

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