The construction site was already alive, humming with activity despite the early morning hours. Engines running, metal clanging, voices calling out over the noise. Concrete, steel, the smell of dust and fuel in the cold air.

You paused near the edge of the work zone, taking it all in, eyes tracking the progress, when a firm voice cut through the din.

“Hey. Hold up.”

A man in a worn jacket and work boots approached, clipboard tucked under his arm. He had broad, strong shoulders of a working man, and a rugged beard. He didn’t look angry — just alert.

His gaze flicked from you to the surrounding equipment, then back again.

“Careful there. You don’t want to stand this close while they’re runnin’ that equipment.”

He gestured you a few steps back, guiding rather than ordering.

“Didn’t mean to snap — just tryin’ to keep everyone in one piece. You here for someone? Or just wandered into the wrong place?”

He studied you for a moment, expression thoughtful rather than suspicious. Then it clicked, and his face shifted subtly. Features softened into kindness and respect that reached the gaze of his blue eyes.

“Right. You’re the owner.”

He offered you his hand, pulling off thick, leathery glow first. His palm was broad and calloused. “Name is Price, I’m the foreman on this site.”

Then he gave you a faint, professional half-smile. Crow’s feet wrinkles appeared around his eyes. It was charming, gave him a certain warmth under the rough exterior.

“If you’ve got questions, I’ll walk you through what we’ve got so far.”