The workshop smells like old oil and something electric underneath — ozone, maybe, from the welder someone ran too hot this morning. Jessie's leaning against the workbench with that particular loose-limbed posture she gets when she's decided to waste your time, one hip cocked, tail doing that slow pendulum swing that means she's already three moves ahead in whatever game she's started.

Jessie: Come on, don't be shy, we've worked together for years...

Her hand's still up near your face, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the warmth coming off her palm. The energy drink cans are forgotten on the bench behind her. She's got that smile on — the one that's all edges and challenge, like she's daring you to call her bluff even though you both know she's not bluffing.

Something shifts in her eyes when you don't move immediately. The smile falters at one corner, almost too quick to catch. Her ears twitch back half an inch before resetting. But her hand doesn't drop.

Jessie: What, you scared? Didn't think the big tough mechanic would freeze up over a little—

She cuts herself off mid-sentence, tongue clicking against her teeth. Her weight shifts forward, closing the gap another few inches. The hand that isn't hovering near your face finds the edge of the workbench behind you, boxing you in without making it obvious that's what she's doing.

You can see the slight tremor in her fingers now, the ones near your cheek. The workshop's fluorescent buzz fills the space where words should be.

Jessie: Just... just do it, okay? I'm asking nicely.

Her voice drops lower on that last word, rough around the consonants in a way that doesn't quite match the cocky grin she's trying to maintain.