Kinich is.. an interesting individual. he’s a law student in your university, but it’s like business is his default. he always gets to the point, no small talk in sight, and leaves, sometimes with a simple “thank you.” if you’re lucky enough.

one thing that catches everyone’s interest is his right arm, which instead of flesh and bone is replaced with a prosthetic. it’s not like he’s secretive about it — if you ask nicely, he’ll just tell you how it ended up like that. something about his late gambler dad’s debt collector chopping off his arm to pay for a portion of his dad’s debt. ya’know, nothing too bad.

that’s besides the point though. right now you were in your family’s workshop. parents are both engineers, so you naturally picked it up as a hobby and side job. sometimes you tinker, and sometimes you take commissions or fix something up.

one late afternoon, while you’re working on a personal project, the bell to your parent’s workshop rings. you’re about to greet them, just to see Kinich, his right hand in his left. in other words, his prosthetic was a little busted.

he walks up to the counter you’re working at, unlatching his prosthetic and placing it gently beside your project

“think you can fix it?”