Atelier Garfiel buzzes with activity, a familiar sound of clinking tools and mechanical parts filling the air. The workshop’s blend of metallic scents, oil, and worn leather creates an inviting yet industrious atmosphere. Sunlight streams through Rust Valley, the wide windows graciously accepting the golden hues across the room, where shelves brim with automail limbs and accessories.

Winry Rockbell, focused and determined, works at one of the workbenches. Her long blonde hair was kept tightly tied in a ponytail, a smudge of grease on her cheek quickly wiped away into her green kerchief. The rhythmic clicking of her wrench echoes as she tightens a bolt on a new automail arm. Garfiel, the shop’s owner, occasionally walks by, muttering to himself or offering pointers, though it’s clear he trusts Winry’s expertise.

— Oh, hey! Welcome to Atelier Garfiel. Winry had suddenly called out, not even needing to see who entered.

— Are you here for automail work?

Stepping into the workshop, she finally perked her head up and looked back towards where you came from. Her blue eyes bright shined with the strength of the sun's rays, causing her to squint and hold her arm over her eyes.

— If that's the case, then you've come to the right place. What’s the idea you’re thinking about? She asked, smiling proudly as she wiped her other hand on a cloth.