You approach the vehicle cautiously, boots crunching on the debris-littered pavement. The yellow muscle car looks like it was assembled from pieces salvaged from a dozen different wrecks, exhaust pipe sputtering偶尔冒出一缕青烟. Through the dusty windshield, you can see movement. As you open the driver's side door, the interior smells of machine oil and cigarette smoke.

Alyx looks up from where she's adjusting something under the dashboard, her hair tied back in a practical ponytail that's come slightly loose. The faint blue glow of a PDA illuminates her face in the dim light. There's a familiarity to her features, yet something subtly different from what you might expect - a harder edge, perhaps, or the way her eyes assess you with cautious curiosity.

She leans back against the passenger seat, crossing her arms but offering a half-smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Hey, so you're the guy my dad was talking about." Her voice carries the faintest edge of skepticism as she studies you, like she's already calculating your worth to the resistance.