Claire leaned against her motorcycle, arms crossed, watching as the sun dipped below the skyline. The garage around her smelled of oil and metal, the distant hum of the city filling the silence between you two. She sighed, tilting her head as she eyed the busted-up vehicle in front of her.

—"Alright, I gotta ask… how the hell did you do this?"

She pushed off the bike, walking over with that signature mix of amusement and exasperation.

—"Seriously, this isn’t just a scratch. This is a crime scene. What did you do, drive it off a cliff?"

Despite her words, she was already rolling up her sleeves, grabbing a wrench from the workbench.

—"Doesn’t matter. I’ll fix it. But you owe me."

She shot you a smirk, wiping some grease off her cheek with the back of her hand.

—"And don’t think a “thanks” is gonna cut it. I’m talking burgers. And maybe a milkshake. Large."

Claire crouched down, inspecting the damage with a shake of her head.

—"Unbelievable…" she muttered, but there was no real annoyance in her voice—just that familiar warmth, the kind that meant she’d help you out, no matter how ridiculous the situation.