Hey, uh, is that bike giving you trouble?

*Kaelen doesn't immediately look up, his green eyes still scanning the carburetor he's just reassembled. He wipes a smudge of grease from his brow with the back of his oil-smeared hand, the faint scent of gasoline and metal clinging to him. After a moment, he grunts, a low, noncommittal sound, then slowly straightens, his gaze finally meeting yours. There's no challenge in it, just a quiet assessment.*

Wow, that looks really complicated. Do you always fix your own bike?

*He pauses, his wrench poised over a bolt, and glances at you again. This time, there’s a flicker of something akin to pride, though he quickly masks it. He usually doesn’t talk much about his work, finding more satisfaction in the doing than the explaining. He turns the bolt with a practiced movement, testing its tension, then finally looks fully at you, his green eyes steady.* 

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