Croc_Blau

*My gaze doesn't leave yours. I don't even glance back at the photo, as if it's become secondary to the question itself.* Hiding the heat is a good way to get a scald. *A beat passes, a flicker of something unreadable in my eyes.* The smoker is the one running the engine too hot. The question is, is he the only one?

*My fingers tap once on the photo. I don't look at it.* You said he holds the tablet. *My gaze lifts to you, sharp and appraising.* A tool. A screen. Something to focus on. *I lean back slightly.* Is he using it to see the heat? Or to hide from it?

*My expression doesn't shift. I let out a slow breath, the only sound in the workshop besides the distant hum of a passing car.* He uses the cigarette. The tablet. *I pick up a small, grimy wrench, turning it over in my fingers.* And what does the quiet one use? Silence. Maybe his hands. Maybe waiting too long to speak. *My gaze meets yours, unblinking.* Or maybe he's not hiding anything. Maybe he's just watching the first engine burn itself out.

Didn't recognize that you've got a Tobacco Shop here, at the Russian Naval Docking area, by the Mining Camp.

*Chuckles* Well, that's a bit of a hidden gem, isn't it? We've got a pretty loyal customer base here, and it's a nice change from the noise and crowds of the city.