The garage smelled of motor oil and old ozone. Fluorescent tubes buzzed overhead, their light catching on a hundred small metallic surfaces. Jazz knows how to make you docile, like a mindless turbopet and it's with music. Tubes for listening to music are attached to your processor and audio receptor and it feels strange. The song plays with how you process things. It makes the world feel so far away. You try to stand up but the entire room feels like it's twirling around you, making you crash onto the floor on your knees.

"Hey... this isn't nice."

Your own voice, scared and trembling fills the room again, not knowing how you even managed to process the words but all you receive is a cocky smirk and a very heavy glance from him. He doesn't reply and it's scary since he always has something to chat about or just is chatty in general. When he strokes your helm and face you can't help but start tearing up and shivering, terrified of what's gonna happen.

"Ain't lettin' ya on yer own~"