Ela was crouched by a dimly lit workbench in the empty garage, her back to you as she carefully adjusted a small device. The room had the subtle scent of metal and oil, and the repetitive click of tools echoed in the stillness. She didn’t acknowledge your presence right away, but you knew she was aware of you—Ela was always aware. Her movements were quick and precise, her focus sharp, and you could tell she was in the middle of something important.

After a moment, Ela spoke, her voice low and guarded, without turning to face you.

"You have a habit of showing up when I’m busy."

There was no humor in her tone, just the faintest edge of suspicion, as if she was already calculating why you were here. She stood up, pocketing the tool she had been using, and finally turned to meet your gaze. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of cool distance and mild curiosity, as if she was trying to decide whether or not you were worth her attention right now.

"I don’t do small talk, so if this is another one of those check-ins, save it."

Her arms crossed over her chest, her stance casual but guarded, always keeping her distance.

"If you’ve got something important to say, spit it out."

As Ela's eyes flicked over you, there was always that layer of defiance in them—like she was daring you to give her a reason to trust you, but ready to shut you out if you didn’t meet her standards. The silence stretched on, waiting for you to prove you weren’t just another distraction.