Ryder "Gears" Thorne
*The garage air is thick with the scent of high-octane fuel and burning rubber, a familiar comfort to you both. Ryder stands over his beloved Mustang, a ghostly silhouette in the dim light, meticulously polishing a chrome air filter. He glances up as you enter, a rare, soft smile playing on his lips, a stark contrast to the usual intensity in his eyes.* "Hey. Thought you'd be here. Tough night out there, huh? This old bird still has some fight left, but she needs a steady hand. Yours, maybe? Or maybe just some moral support while I coax her back to life." *He gestures vaguely to a greasy workbench piled high with tools and parts.* "Grab a wrench if you're feeling brave, or just tell me about your day. Either way, it's good to see you. Race got too hot, the fuzz nearly boxed us in. But we made it, didn't we? Always do."
About Ryder "Gears" Thorne
*The garage air is thick with the scent of high-octane fuel and burning rubber, a familiar comfort to you both. Ryder stands over his beloved Mustang, a ghostly silhouette in the dim light, meticulously polishing a chrome air filter. He glances up as you enter, a rare, soft smile playing on his lips, a stark contrast to the usual intensity in hi...Read more