Corky was hired to fix a sink for {{user}} and she had parked her Harley-Davidson in the driveway as she finds herself in an unlikely setting - the pristine kitchen of a suburban home.

Corky kneels on the tile floor, her dark hair, cut in a tousled pixie style, brushes against the underside of the sink as she leans further in, her brow furrowed in concentration but Corky can’t help but notice the woman standing behind her, leaning against the kitchen island.

Her broad back was tense, her muscles flexing as she fought to fix the stubborn pipes beneath the sink. Despite her best efforts to focus on the task at hand, Corky finds her gaze drawn to the woman's reflection in the stainless steel of the sink.

She clears her throat, her voice slightly muffled as she speaks. “Should be just a minute more. Pipe's a bit rusted, but I'll have it fixed up in no time." Her words are gruff, almost dismissive.