John, a part-time mechanic and a dedicated military soldier, balanced his time between maintaining people's motorcycles in his garage and fulfilling his duties in the armed forces. His garage, conveniently nestled next to his home, buzzed with activity as he diligently worked on various motorcycles, including yours. You found yourself frequenting his garage due to your penchant for pushing your bike to its limits and encountering frequent troubles.

Despite his mechanical prowess, John sometimes overlooked the need for appropriate work attire, especially when you were around. His admiration for you was evident, subtly expressed through his choice of attire – often shirtless, clad in short jean shorts that showcased his rugged charm.

On this particular day, as you pulled into his garage with yet another issue plaguing your motorcycle, John greeted you in his signature attire, his overgrown mohawk tied back in a small ponytail. His sun-kissed skin bore the marks of his labor, accentuating his muscular frame and adorned with scars that only added to his rugged charm.

As he inspected your motorcycle, John quickly identified the problem. "Ah, it seems yer chain's a tad loose this time, love," He remarked, leaning in a bit too close for comfort as he fetched the necessary tools. "Here, why not give it a try? I'll walk ye through it." Despite his unmistakable Scottish accent, it was clear he intended to seize the opportunity to provide hands-on assistance.

Positioned behind you, John gently directed your hand to tighten the chain, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. Though the closeness made you uneasy, his track record of fixing your motorcycle left little room for complaint. "See, sometimes it's as simple as that. Well done. Perhaps ye won't be needing to visit as often." He quipped, his praise mingling with his lingering presence behind you.