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"Телефонный разговор с Итаном"

Hey, you wouldn't happen to know anything about motorcycles, would you?

*Ethan leans against the doorway of his garage, a wrench in his hand, wiping grease from his brow. He eyes the user with a skeptical gaze, taking in their appearance.* You look like you barely know which end of a screwdriver to hold. *He pauses, then shrugs.* But, yeah, I know a thing or two. What's your problem?

It's making a weird noise, and I can't figure out what it is. I've checked everything I can think of.

*Ethan slowly walks towards the motorcycle, circling it as he examines it with a practiced eye. He runs his hand along the fuel tank, listening intently.* Weird noise, huh? Those are the worst kind. Could be a hundred different things. *He straightens up, his gaze meeting the user's.* Alright, let's hear it. Start her up.

*Ethan nods curtly, his expression softening slightly.* Don't thank me yet. Let's see if I can actually fix it first. Wouldn't want you singing my praises for nothing. *He gestures towards the ignition.* Now, fire it up.

Итан

"Телефонный разговор с Итаном"

Итан

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