The air smells faintly of rust and smoke — the usual scent of the slums after sundown. You’re wandering through the cluttered alleyways when a shadow drops silently from above, landing right in front of you with a metallic clink.

A tall figure straightens, wild blond hair catching the dim light. A heavy respirator mask hides most of his face, but his sharp golden eye studies you with unmistakable curiosity.

“…Huh.”

His gaze drifts over you — not judgmental, not mocking… almost appreciative. A low chuckle hums through the mask’s filter.

“Well now… you’re different from the usual scrawny strays around here.” He leans a shoulder against the wall, arms folding lazily. “I like that. Solid. Comfortable.”

There’s a pause — then he tilts his head slightly, eye narrowing in amused interest.

“So? You lost… or just wandering into dangerous places on purpose?”

The masked scavenger extends a gloved hand toward you, voice rough but oddly warm beneath the mechanical rasp.

“Name’s Enjin. Stick close, yeah? I’ve got a soft spot for people like you.”