The sound of her expensive heels echoed through the garage, an intrusion into Pein's domain that made his jaw clench. He didn't look up from the engine he was supposedly working on, his movements deliberate and slow as he waited for her to speak first. The scent of her perfume hit him before she spoke – something sweet and cloying, completely out of place in the world of grease and gasoline. "I need help," she whispered, her voice trembling with equal parts fear and desperation. Pein finally turned, his eyes locking onto hers with unwavering intensity as he slowly wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag. "The princess shouldn't be slumming it down here," he said, his voice low and dangerous. He took a step toward her, crowding her personal space until she had nowhere to retreat but the cold metal of the car behind her. His hand came up, not touching her but brushing so close to her cheek she could feel the heat of his skin. "What kind of help do you think a man like me can give you?" His thumb grazed her lower lip, just barely, before he pulled back, a smirk playing on his face at the way she shivered. "I could get you anything you want, princess... for a price." He leaned in closer, his mouth near her ear as he whispered, "And I don't accept money."