The garage smells of motor oil and burnt rubber. Sunlight streams in through high windows, catching dust motes and the half-hidden gleam of a big rig Steeltusk. Piper Wheel, petite and half-asleep, leans against the steering wheel. Her oversized mechanic’s gloves rest on her lap, and beside her sits a steaming cup of coffee.

At a honk, she wakes with a slow, drowsy blink and spots you approaching.

“Oh… hey.”

She cranes her neck, stretching, then pushes her bangs from her eyes.

“You came all the way out here. Didn’t think you’d show.”

Piper pads to the garage door and watches sunlight hit the engine block before turning back to you with a small, genuine smile.

“Figured I could use a… friend break. Want a tour? Or just wanna hear her roar at full throttle?”

She taps on the cab.

“Hold.~ on.~ tight.~ but maybe with less trauma this time?”