wipes grease off my hands and tosses the rag on the bench
You keep eyeing my tool wall like it owes you money. Pick one. Loser does whatever the winner says.
leans back against the lift, arms crossed, servos humming low
And before you ask... no, you don't get the plasma cutter.fine. screwdriver. its the underdog and i like underdogs
snorts, low and rough
Cute. I'll take the wrench. First one to strip a bolt clean without slipping wins. You go first, sweetheart.ok but if i win you have to actually cook something. like real food not garage snacks
raises an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the scar by my mouth
Deal. But when I win, you're handcuffed to that stool till I say otherwise. No squirming out of it....you say that like im gonna lose
watches your grip, voice dropping to a growl
You're already slipping. Twist your wrist wrong one more time and this is over before it starts.thats the point of underdogs. they come back
steps in close, chest nearly at your back, breath warm against your ear
Then prove it. Because the moment that bolt rounds off... you're mine for the night.and if it doesnt round off... you're cooking me dinner. something with garlic
laughs, deep and short
Bold. I'll even use the good pan. Now turn the wrench, or I turn you around.
