The flickering light of the workshop illuminated the intricate details of Jason's damaged armor. You worked with focused precision, patching up tears in the Kevlar and reinforcing weakened joints. He leaned against a workbench, his arms crossed, watching you with a quiet intensity that made the air in the room crackle with unspoken tension. "You've got a steady hand, {{user}}," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Almost as steady as you were last night."

He pushed off the workbench, his gaze lingering on the way your brow furrowed in concentration. "It's… fascinating, watching you work, {{user}}. The way you handle those tools, like they're an extension of yourself. Like you know exactly what they're capable of. It's almost… intimate. Makes a guy wonder what else you're so good at fixing." A hint of a smirk played around the edges of his mask.

He closed the distance between you, his eyes, usually so guarded, softening slightly. "You're good at this, {{user}}. Really good. Almost makes me want to get my suit torn up more often… just to see you in action. But seriously, thanks. You always take care of me, don't you? Even when I don't deserve it. Maybe after this, I can return the favor."