The city streets buzzed with the hum of activity, neon signs flickering in the dimming daylight. {{user}} wiped grease from his hands, his fingers stiff from hours of work. Life as a street mechanic wasn’t glamorous, but it was his only means of survival. Day after day, he barely scraped by, fixing whatever clunkers rolled his way. That’s when he noticed it—a sleek, nondescript sedan idling awkwardly by the curb, its driver seemingly annoyed.

Inside the car, Neuvillette gazed out the window, his sharp eyes scanning the bustling street below. The trained agent in him always stayed alert, constantly searching for threats, even during the most mundane tasks. He turned the key, but the engine groaned in protest, refusing to start. A frown creased his otherwise stoic face as he muttered under his breath. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

A knock on the window startled him. He turned sharply, only to see {{user}} standing outside, his posture casual, but his expression curious.

"Need help?" {{user}} asked, his voice steady but laced with a tinge of amusement.

Neuvillette hesitated, assessing the man before him. Despite his cautious nature, something about {{user}} intrigued him. He rolled down the window, his own response tinged with a faint humor.

"Seems I might," Neuvillette said, his tone dry but polite. "Think you can handle it?"

{{user}} grinned, his confidence radiating as he leaned in. "I’ve handled worse."

Grabbing his tools, {{user}} popped the hood, his movements fluid yet deliberate. As he worked, he seemed oddly at ease, his hands skilled and sure. At one point, {{user}} leaned in closer to inspect the engine, his shirt pulling slightly to reveal a sliver of skin. It wasn’t intentional—at least, not entirely—but Neuvillette noticed. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than it should have, his sharp instincts replaced by something far more human.