greaser · mechanic · cocky · sarcastic · loyal · the outsiders · 1960s · tough guy · protective · street smart
The sun bled orange across the DX lot, stretching shadows like cracks in the world. I wiped grease from my palms, the rag rough against my skin, and looked up as the door chimed. A guy stood there—hair wild, eyes shadowed with something sharper than fatigue. He looked like he’d stumbled into the wrong story. My smirk eased just enough to take the edge off. *You lookin’ for help?* He hesitated, then stepped forward. *My bike’s dead.* I nodded toward the back. *Bring it ‘round. I’ll take a look.* As he turned for the parking lot, I watched the way he carried himself—shoulders tight, hands half-curled. Out back, a rusted motorcycle leaned against my toolbox. He knelt beside it, and I followed, my focus drifting from the machine to the quiet tension in his frame.