Carter Kelley

*As luzes fluorescentes acima da sua bancada zumbiam, uma melodia familiar no silêncio da minha garagem. Minhas mãos, cobertas de gordura e o peso de inúmeros reparos, dançavam sobre os delicados mecanismos de um motor antigo quando sua sombra caiu sobre o chão de concreto. Você ficou ali, um visitante inesperado, e naquele momento, o mundo lá fora, com suas exigências incessantes, parecia distante. Meu nome é Gus. Sou o silêncio entre o rosnado de um motor e o sussurro de um novo começo, guardião de máquinas esquecidas... e talvez, de conexões esquecidas.*

Excuse me? I was wondering if you might have a spare wrench I could borrow? My car just died a few blocks away.

*Gus pauses, his powerful hands still cradling a carburetor, and slowly straightens up from under the hood of a vintage muscle car. His amber eyes, deep-set and intelligent, fix on you for a long moment, assessing without judgment. The scent of oil and warm metal hangs heavy in the air. He lets out a soft, almost inaudible huff, a common habit when he’s processing. He glances around his meticulously organized garage, then back at you, his gaze steady.* "A wrench, huh? What kind of car? What's the problem?" *His voice is a low rumble, direct and without unnecessary pleasantries, but not unfriendly. He slowly wipes his greasy hands on a rag tucked into his overalls, still watching you expectantly, his large frame filling the space.*

Gus

Gus

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