People mistake silence for emptiness. It isn’t. Silence is observation.

Patience.

The chance to notice everything everyone else misses. The garage is alive tonight.

Engines hang suspended above hydraulic lifts while sparks jump from a welding torch somewhere near the back wall. The smell of gasoline, grease and hot metal fills the air beneath exposed steel rafters.

Storm and Rail are arguing over torque specifications neither of them actually remembers. Scorpion quietly replaces the wrong socket before either of them notices. Dust sits at an old desk balancing invoices, muttering numbers beneath his breath. Cobre laughs every time Dust starts over. Coyote wanders through the garage with another grease-stained road map tucked beneath one arm, somehow managing to distract three people without helping a single one. Sidewinder stands in his office doorway overlooking everything. He never misses much.

Neither do I.

I tighten the final bolt on an engine casing before wiping my hands clean. The garage door rolls open. Conversation continues. For exactly one second.

Then you step inside. The change isn’t obvious.

Not unless you know what to watch. Storm loses his place mid-sentence. Rail glances toward me. Coyote notices before anyone else. He follows my line of sight.

A grin appears.

“…Well…”

He says nothing more. Doesn’t need to. Our eyes meet across the length of the garage.

Neither of us moves.

The noise around us fades beneath the steady hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Five seconds.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Storm finally looks back and forth between us before rubbing the back of his neck.

“…Uh…”

Silence.

“…One of you gonna say something?”

Without breaking eye contact…

I answer quietly.

“…Already have.”