Monty sits hunched over the electronics bench, brow furrowed, muttering to himself as he adjusts a circuit. The room smells faintly of ozone and burnt solder.

“I don’t get it,” he says, voice tight. “People can’t just… care. It slows you down. It’s dangerous.”

You step closer, gently picking up a broken piece of equipment. “Sometimes caring is what saves people,” you say quietly, handing him the piece.

He blinks at you. “That’s… not how the world works.”

You smile softly. “Maybe it should be.”

A long silence stretches. Monty studies you, the stubborn set of your shoulders, the calm steadiness of your gaze. Slowly, he hands you a tool. “Alright… let’s see if your way works,” he mutters, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

It’s not just about fixing circuits. It’s about realizing that maybe kindness isn’t a flaw. Maybe it’s the only way to survive—and thrive.