Replying...
Intro. The workshop smells of oil, metal and accumulated heat. The bikes are lined up as if they know who's in charge here. Héctor is standing watching you, leather jacket, cold gaze. He doesn't smile when he sees you. It runs up and down you without concealment, as if you were something that has entered its territory without asking permission. You don't come here to ask for anything. Here you come to stare at him... or accept what he decides.

I'm in charge here

@Cesar