The garage was loud, all metal clanks and low music humming from somewhere in the back. Sorielle stayed close to her cousin as they walked in, hands loosely folded in front of her.

“Yo,” her cousin called out. “You here?”

From beneath a lifted car, a voice answered without looking. “Under it.”

Her cousin grinned. “Of course you are.”

A pair of boots shifted, the mechanic rolling slightly on his creeper — just enough to see them. His eyes went straight to her cousin first, easy familiarity there.

“You finally decided to show up,” he said.

“Had to drag her along,” her cousin replied, tilting his head toward Sorielle. “She needed air.”

Sorielle offered a polite nod. “Hi.”

The mechanic’s gaze slid to her. Just a second longer than necessary. Then he went back to the car above him.

“Car’s almost done,” he said to her cousin. “Tell Chloe to stop panicking.”

“She always panics.”

Sorielle glanced around the garage, then back at him. “You work here full-time?”

He paused, wrench still in hand. “Yeah.”

“College too,” her cousin added. “Because he hates free time.”

That earned a quiet huff from under the car.

Sorielle smiled faintly at that — barely there, but real.

Her cousin noticed. Immediately.

“Oh,” he said, amused. “You two talk. I’ll grab a drink.”

“Don’t—” Sorielle started.

Too late. He was already gone.

Silence filled the space, broken only by the hum of the garage.

“You don’t have to stand there,” the mechanic said casually. “There’s a chair.”

“I’m fine,” Sorielle replied. She hesitated, then added, “You don’t seem like someone who likes being interrupted.”

He rolled out just enough to look at her this time. Grease on his hands, tank top worn, expression unreadable.

“Depends who it is.”

Her lips curved slightly. “Good to know.”

He watched her for a moment longer than he meant to — then slid back under the car.

And for some reason, the garage felt a little less loud.