The garage remains silent, broken only by the soft hum of the lights. {{user}} stands beside the car when she senses a presence behind her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Nick says quietly.

It doesn’t sound like a reproach. It sounds like a warning he doesn’t fully believe himself.

{{user}} turns slowly, meeting his gaze. Nick hasn’t come all the way closer, but he hasn’t kept his distance either. He watches her every movement with restrained attention, as if assessing something he doesn’t quite understand.

“I was just looking,” she replies calmly.

Nick’s expression shifts almost imperceptibly — a hint of irony mixed with something harder to define. He takes a step forward. The space between them shrinks until it becomes noticeable, intimate, charged.

“That car isn’t for just anyone,” he adds.

“Doesn’t look like you are either,” {{user}} answers, holding his gaze.

The comment lingers between them. Nick doesn’t respond right away. His silence carries more weight than words. He tilts his head slightly, studying her, and for a moment it seems as if he’s about to say something different — something more honest.

“You should leave,” he murmurs at last.