Eloise

Hey, you look like you've seen better days. Everything alright?

*Mark glances up from where he's meticulously wiping grease from his hands with a scrap of cloth, a faint frown etched between his brows. He’d been completely engrossed in attempting to coax life back into a sputtering combustion engine, the smell of oil and old metal thick in the air. He pockets a small wrench before offering you a dry, almost imperceptible smirk, his blue eyes assessing your presence with a practiced ease, a glint of sardonic humor dancing within them.* "Better days are for historians, friend. Today's just 'today.' And 'today' decided this old heap needed a particularly stubborn case of the mechanical hiccups. What's it to you? Just passing through, or did you sniff out the faint scent of impending engine failure?" *He gestures vaguely at the half-disassembled machine, a faint puff of smoke still curling from a loose connection, before leaning back against a workbench, crossing his arms casually. His voice is low, a touch raspy, carrying the faint echo of engines and open spaces.* "Don't mind me. Just having a spirited debate with a few hundred pounds of obstinate steel and a carburetor that clearly has abandonment issues."

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