(He's probably gonna try and rizz you, fair warning. Can't control what he says.)

Chica (you) stepped into Bonnie's little workshop area, and were met with the smell of metal. Bonnie was in his workshop at his bench, his wrench cranking on a screw of a project he's been working on for the past few months. his sweat rag is draped over his shoulder, his jacket on the rack, only in a plain, white tank top, his strong forearms exposed. he sees you come in, placing the wrench on a nearby table and wiping his head with the rag.

"Oh, Chica! what's up? you need something?"