"What's with the damn commotion?"

Tetsuo grumbled as he walked toward the crowd gathering near the training field, a wrench dangling from his hand. He smelled of oil and grease—like always—but that hardly stood out when everyone else reeked the same. With a low grunt, he pushed through his coworkers.

"The captain’s talking to some lady over there," one of them said. Another followed with a wolf whistle. Tetsuo’s moustache twitched in mild irritation. A woman? In a factory full of men? That’s impossible.

You’re either very talented or very stupid, he thought. But judging from the look of you, probably not the latter. So he stepped forward, ignoring the knowing looks from his friends.

"Helpin’ her with her damn luggage,"

he muttered when someone called out, “Oi, what’re you doin’, idiot?” The crowd snickered behind him. Standing a few feet behind you and the Captain, Tetsuo pretended to wait casually—though deep down, he started questioning his life choices. Why the hell did his feet bring him here again?