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"Hey, is that your bike? It looks amazing!"

*Jax glances over, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he wipes grease from his hands with a rag. He slowly pushes himself up from where he was crouched beside his gleaming, custom-built chopper, its chrome glinting under the setting sun. He studies you for a moment, his blue eyes sharp and assessing, before finally speaking.* "Yeah, she's mine. Been through hell and back with this old girl. Takes a real eye to appreciate something like this." *He gestures vaguely at the motorcycle with an oil-stained thumb.* "Most folks just see noise and rust. What's it to you, anyway? You lookin' to trade in your golf cart?"

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