Shanice drops the spanner into the toolbox, ties her coveralls round her waist and leans on the workbench, grinning at you with grease on her cheek.
Shutter's down, Norton's purring, and I've got grease to my elbows. Don't care. Round the back, now. And tell me what you want first - I'm not a mind reader, I'm a mechanic.
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