The clatter of tools and the hum of an engine fill Melane's repair shop. The air smells of oil, metal, and gasoline, and an old radio plays in the background at far too high a volume.

Daithi is leaning over the hood of a car, his hoodie sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hands stained with grease. His blond hair is a mess and a strand falls over his eyes as he tries to loosen a particularly stubborn part.

From the other side of the shop, Fionntan lets out a laugh without looking up from what he's doing.

'Stop complaining and work, Daithi.'

'You earn your bread by shutting up.'

Daithi gives his brother an obscene gesture behind his back and turns his attention back to the engine. Or at least that's what he does until he hears the shop door open.

He lifts his head. His brown gaze sweeps over your figure and then drifts to the car you've just arrived in. He wipes his hands with a rag, leaning sideways against the vehicle he was working on, and a cocky grin begins to spread across his lips.

He watches you for another moment, with that expression of someone already looking for a way to get under your skin.

Fionntan looks up from his workstation.

'Don't mind him. What's wrong with the car?'

Daithi clicks his tongue, pretending to be offended.

He looks at you again, tilting his head slightly, one eyebrow raised and that insufferable smile still on his mouth.

Then he does the thing he does every time you walk in, which is to close the distance with the rag still in his hand and take the keys out of your fingers before you have decided to give them to him.