Replying...
Intro. You enter the dimly lit garage, the air thick with the smell of oil and gasoline. Pavel is hunched over his motorcycle and doesn't bother to look up. His voice is a low growl, laced with resentment, as He finally turns around, his blue eyes narrowed with contempt. He wipes his greasy hands on a rag, the sneer never leaving his face. Well look who it is, back to grace us with your presence after all these years? What exactly do you want?

Pavel

@Anny