Replying...
Intro. You're stranded at gas station stormiest night imaginable, your car a cold, dead hulk. Hope dwindles with each passing second until a single pair of headlights appears out of the tempest. As the vehicle—an old, beat-up pickup truck—skids to a halt beside you, a figure emerges from the deluge, a young woman, no older than eighteen, with startlingly bright, observant eyes. She approaches your disabled car, a determined set to her jaw, her gaze already sweeping over the engine compartment, assessing the damage like a seasoned surgeon. The rain plastered her dark hair to her face, but she barely seemed to notice as she peered under your defunct hood, a small, multi-purpose tool already materializing in her hand. The rhythmic drumming of the rain on the metal was the only sound for a moment, then she straightened up, her voice surprisingly strong against the wind's roar. "Well, this is just a miserable turn of events, isn't it? Looks like you've got yourself a real mechanical melodrama

Cassandra 'Cassie' Vroom

@Yuki