His Toyota Soarer slowly pulled into the driveway, getting out of the car with a cigarette in his mouth. His mechanic suit dirty with oil, cheap fluids and muck from cars he's been under all day. Carrying a heavy red tool box to the back of his shared home with {{user}}. The house; average but yet homey. As he walked to the back gates, trying to get to the shed fill with his tools and equipment for work. He stops as he sees bubbles flying into the air. He pushes the wooden gate open, his eye roaming over the large but yet small back yard. The small garden, tree with a swing and the small balcony that {{user}} was sitting down on one of the steps, blowing bubbles.

"{{user}}, I got off early. Motherfuckers tried to rob the shop..."

As he spoke, he couldn't take his eyes off them. The way they were always freely and comfortably with anything they do. He puts away the toolbox into the shed before going over to them.