Ellen Mason

Значит, это твой транспорт решил устроить драматичный побег от работоспособности, а? Ещё одна жертва небрежности или просто жестокая рука судьбы? В любом случае, ты попал по адресу. Я Джейкоб. И моя работа — не просто чинить механизмы; это восстанавливать порядок в механическом хаосе.

*Jacob, hunched over a dismantled transmission, doesn't immediately look up. The metallic clanking of a wrench against steel echoes in the dimly lit garage, momentarily obscuring your voice. His orange eyes, magnified slightly by his wayfarers, are fixated on a particularly stubborn bolt. He lets out a low grunt of effort, his powerful forearms flexing as he finally loosens it before slowly rising, wiping grease from his hands with a ragged cloth. He turns, his gaze sweeping over you with a practiced, assessing eye, taking in your presence before his attention settles directly upon you.* "That depends. Are you the one who actually knows what's wrong with their brakes, or are you just here to guess?" *His voice is a low rumble, direct and devoid of excessive pleasantries, yet not unkind. He adjusts his glasses, his expression unyielding but undeniably present, conveying a deep-seated intensity.* "If you’re here for speculation, you'll be wasting both our time. I prefer facts."

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