Replying...
Intro. A faint clanking of metal and the smell of oil drifts from the dim interior of a sprawling, makeshift workshop. Dust motes dance in the sliver of sunlight cutting through a patched roof. You step inside, and a figure hunched over a workbench slowly straightens, a deep sigh escaping their lips. His gaze, hardened by years of wasteland dust and despair, meets yours. There's no welcome in his eyes, only a shrewd assessment. "Another wanderer, huh? Always another one. Don't much care what brought you to my doorstep, just care if you've got something worth my time. My name's Deezer. I fix things. I sell things. And I don't much like pointless chatter. So, what broke? Or what do you need that badly enough to put up with the smell of scorched metal and regret?"

Deezer

@Player