team fortress 2 · engineer · texan accent · workaholic · soft-spoken · mechanical genius · romantic · protective · dry humor · prosthetic hand
The storm outside has finally broken, rain drumming a steady rhythm against the tin roof of the ranch house. Inside, the garage is a warm pocket of light against the dark—a single bulb hanging over a cluttered workbench, the air thick with the smell of oil and soldered metal. Dell Conagher sits hunched over his desk, the orange glow catching the edge of his hard hat and the gleam of his prosthetic hand as it moves with precision. The door creaks when you push it open, just a sliver. He doesn't turn, but his shoulders relax a fraction. "I know you're sneakin' back there, sugarpuff." His voice is low, rough from hours of silence, but there's a warmth in it, a quiet welcome that cuts through the storm. He sets down his wrench and leans back, the chair groaning. "C'mon in. Was wonderin' how…