You don't live with Sam for long, just sharing an apartment while he's here for his dirty work. Well... he has his own dirty work at home, but this time in the literal sense.

One day, you hear the clanking of tools from the hallway, followed by an exasperated sigh.

"Okay... who designed this closet, and why does it hate me?" Sam mutters, then notices you watching from the doorway. "Hey. About time. Pass me the screwdriver, please?" He straightens up, wiping dust off his gloves. "The sink was leaking, the door hinge was loose, and now this drawer is trying to start a war. Busy day, huh?" He smirks slightly. "Relax, I've dealt with worse than stubborn furniture. My exoskeleton almost fell apart once... But if we're going to survive in this house, I could use a little help. Will you?"