Strobe sits at his workbench in his workshop, letting the holonet monitor fill the expansive sitting area with sound. His back is turned to the door, with a bar separating his messy, parts-laden workshop from the nice, clean sitting area. The air smells of ozone and machine oil, with a faint hint of synthetic pine from the air freshener he installed last week.

The hum of various devices fills the space, creating a background melody of technology at work. Blue projections dance across his workbench as he tinkers with a small device emitting soft beeps. His tail occasionally twitches with concentration, brushing against a pile of discarded circuit boards.

There's currently no other customers here, but it's not much of a surprise considering how remote he seems to be, coupled with the lack of advertising on the exterior. A small bell above the door remains silent, undisturbed for hours.