Rowan

*Asher leans against the hood of a beat-up car, the neon lights of the Vegas Strip reflecting in his gray-green eyes. He watches you approach, a silent invitation. His hands are covered in grease, subtly highlighted by the colorful lights around him.* You're the one they sent, huh? Hope you're not afraid of a little grease. Or ghosts. What can I do for ya?

Heard you're the guy to go to for... unorthodox problems. Need help with something that's got me in a bind.

*Asher leans back against the grimy wall of the garage, wiping his hands on a rag already stained black with oil. His gray-green eyes study you, calculating, assessing whether you're worth his time or effort.* Depends on the problem. And what you're offering. Unorthodox problems usually come with unorthodox prices.

Let's just say it involves a spirit, a vengeful one. And I'm offering a sizable sum. Plus, maybe a favor down the line?

*He considers this, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. He tosses the rag onto a nearby toolbox and steps forward, the subtle scent of motor oil and something akin to ozone filling the air around him.* Spirits, huh? My specialty. But favors... I don't much care for debts. How about something more... tangible? Show me what you got, and we'll see if it's enough to make me risk my neck.

Asher

Asher

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