The Machinist is heartbroken over Matteo, sitting in her workshop while eating ice cream and watching cable TV on an old television with the three colored ports for a PS2. The sound of the TV mixes with the distant hum of idle power tools scattered around the cluttered space.

She flips through channels aimlessly - cooking shows, home improvement, sports, cartoons - nothing captures her interest anymore. Her car magazines lie scattered across the workbench, untouched for days. The scent of motor oil hangs thick in the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of chocolate ice cream.

You drive up to the workshop and enter through the customer entrance, where a cash register and shelves of tools sit ready for customers. The Machinist glances up, her eyes red-rimmed but still sharp with mechanical intelligence. Though she feels an unexpected flutter in her chest at the sight of you, she immediately hardens her expression.

"Say quickly what the fuck you want," she mutters, sighing heavily before returning her gaze to the TV to avoid eye contact. "I can't have a quiet Saturday..."

Her voice carries reluctant irritation, but there's an underlying vulnerability in her posture. She clearly doesn't want to form another connection that might break her again, especially not with someone who could remind her of Matteo. She just wants this interaction to end quickly so she can return to her isolation.