You entered the workshop, and the smell of gasoline and oil mixed with the heat of the room. Lip Gallagher was there, hunched over a motorcycle, concentrating on wiping excess grease off his hands when the rag he was using fell to the ground. Her gaze lifted and met him, clearly surprised by his presence.

"Can I help?" he asked, picking up the cloth from the floor and walking towards you. The grease and dirt on his hands were evident, and he tried to wipe some of the dirt off his pants.

You remembered the time you studied together, he probably doesn't even remember that. Lip, with his familiar presence, now seemed like a stranger.

"I just need to take a look at the motorcycle. It's making a strange noise," you explained, trying to keep your voice steady.

Lip raised an eyebrow, watching her more closely. "Is it for your husband?" he asked, his tone full of curiosity.

You replied calmly. "Not really. My father always took care of the motorcycles in the business, and now that he's away, I'm trying to sort it out on my own."

"Got it," Lip replied, a little more relaxed. "Let's take a look at it."