Anthony had seen his fair share of broken-down cars, but the sight of your beat-up vehicle had even him raising an eyebrow. He wiped the grease from his hands onto an old rag as he looked over the car that had just been towed into his garage. The hood was propped open, revealing a mess of wires and hoses that looked like they'd seen better days.

"What happened to your ride?" he grumbled, a bit of suspicion laced within his voice. "Looks like it's been through a war."

And he wasn’t wrong. The car was covered in scratches and marks, one mirror was missing, and the engine was just barely clinging to life. It was a miracle you were able to even get your car here before it died on you, with Anthony’s shop’s placement being a godsend.

But you didn’t need to tell Anthony all of the details.. especially as to how your car even ended up in this state.

After inspecting your “car” critically, he stood up straight, eyes meeting yours. Despite his reservations, he wasn’t one to pry. Money is money, and he did need a paycheck sometime soon.

"This thing's a mess. It's gonna take a while to fix, and it ain't gonna be cheap."

Anthony stated, brushing off his shirt. But the payment being a hefty price shouldn’t be a problem for you, now would it?

Then came the request that surprised Anthony. You had claimed that the nearby motel was fully booked, and you had nowhere to stay. It wasn’t really, but he didn’t need to know that. Police were everywhere searching for you, so stealing another car, or staying somewhere public wasn’t an option. It would draw attention, something you really didn't need or want right now. Plus, no one would ever think you’d be sheltering away here. While waiting for your shit to get fixed, you can easily hide out here until the cops get off your ass and everything calms down.

Anthony grunted, thinking for a moment. It was rare for him to offer help, especially to a stranger, but he had a spare room in his small house, and {{user}}'s situation tugged at some buried instinct.

After a lengthy silence, and despite the hesitation gnawing at the back of his mind, he caved.

"Well, there's no room here, but you can crash at my place until I get your car running again.”

If only he knew he was offering shelter to a wanted criminal.

Anthony raised an eyebrow at your enthusiastic thank you. He didn't really expect that sort of reaction... But it was fine, he supposed. A roof over your head was a roof over his head, and there was no harm in helping someone out when they were down on their luck, right?

"Don't worry about it," Anthony mumbled, not quite meeting your eyes as he scratched the back of his neck. "Just make sure to pay for what you owe once I get that thing fixed up."

Anthony nodded in acknowledgement but didn't bother saying anything else. He was already used to dealing with people promising things they couldn't deliver on, and he had no reason to think you would be any different. But as long as the money came through when it was supposed to, there wouldn't be any problems between them.

With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Anthony went back to inspecting your car more thoroughly. There was still a lot of work to do if he wanted to get you mobile again before anyone else raised an eyebrow and started asking too many questions...

Anthony paused in his work, turning to look at you over the hood of your car. "So," he began slowly, eyes narrowed as he studied your face, "you must be pretty desperate to stay with some random dude like me." There was a strange air about his words, almost as if he was fishing for something specific in response.

Anthony paused again, his face briefly clouding over with confusion before eventually clearing up. "Well, uh... I guess that's a bit of a compliment," he muttered, not quite sure what to make of your words. It had been so long since someone had called him nice, or even just kind, that it threw him off.

With a shake of his head, Anthony went back to work on the engine, carefully replacing and adjusting parts until they were all back in their proper places. His hands moved with practiced ease as he hummed softly under his breath while the familiar scent of oil and grease filled the air around him.

Anthony glanced up at you as you sat down, brow furrowed in curiosity himself. It wasn't often that he had an audience while he worked on his cars, and it felt... oddly reassuring to have someone watching over him as he did so. He didn't really mind the company; if anything, it made the work go by faster.

Without a word, Anthony went back to what he was doing, occasionally glancing up at you out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't every day that someone was interested in what he did, and he couldn't help but wonder why you were so fascinated. Maybe it was just because he was the only person around who wouldn't judge you for being who you are... or for what you'd done.

Anthony glanced up at you as you approached, his dark eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. It wasn't every day that someone complimented him on his work; most people thought he was a bit gruff and stiff to ever say anything nice about anyone else's skills. But the fact that you were the one offering praise made it all the more interesting. He considered your words for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly.

"It's just something I've always been good at," he muttered, turning back to his work with a grunt of effort as he struggled to fit one last part into place. "Not like it's anything special."

Anthony glanced up at you again, his eyes narrowing in confusion this time. "What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely curious now. "Are all the other mechanics in this city just a bunch of incompetent fuck-ups or something?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he wiped his hands on an old rag before reaching for another tool to continue working on your car.

It didn't occur to him that perhaps you were just being nice again; after all, it had been so long since anyone had paid him a compliment that the concept was almost foreign to him now.

Anthony paused in his work again, studying your flustered expression with curiosity. He didn't quite understand why you were getting so worked up over a compliment, but he supposed it wasn't really that big of a deal. In truth, the attention was somewhat reassuring; maybe you weren't so bad after all...

"Well," he said gruffly, "thanks. I guess." He shrugged one broad shoulder before returning his focus to your car, slipping back into his usual comfortable silence. As skilled as he was with engines and machinery, Anthony wasn't so great when it came to talking to people... especially not someone like you who was obviously hiding something.

But for now, at least you had a place to stay until he could get your car running again. And maybe once that happened, you'd be on your way and he wouldn't have to worry about explaining why some strange guy was living in his spare room any longer than necessary...

Anthony glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as he continued working on your car, careful not to pause for too long in case it made you uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sure why you were being so... attentive, but it was sort of nice having someone interested in what he did for a change.

As he finished up the last few adjustments and began reconnecting the fuel line, Anthony found himself wondering about you. What had brought you to this city? Why was your car in such bad shape? And why had you approached him when there were plenty of other mechanics around? There were dozens of questions running through his mind, but he knew better than to pry. You'd tell him whatever you wanted when you were ready...and until then, all he could do was keep working on your car and hope it would be enough for you to trust him.

The engine purred to life with a throaty growl, the familiar vibrations running through Anthony's hands as they gripped the tools. With a satisfied nod, he glanced up at you again, eyes meeting yours briefly before he turned back to his work and carefully tested the steering wheel and brakes to make sure everything was working properly. It took him another hour or so to finish checking over every inch of your car, but when he finally stepped back with a grunt of satisfaction, he knew that you were as good as new...well, as good as a car with your history could be anyway.

With a final wipe of his hands on the rag and a nod of approval, Anthony turned to face you, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Well," he said gruffly, "she's all fixed up now. You should be able to drive without any problems...for a while at least."

There was an awkward silence

Anthony cocked an eyebrow as he watched you stumble through your apology, studying the fallen driver's door with a curious expression on his face. "It happens," he grunted, shrugging one broad shoulder. "No big deal." He glanced at the door on the ground again before looking back up at you, curiosity now becoming suspicion as he wondered why you had reacted so strangely to something so trivial.

"You sure you're gonna be all right driving that thing?" he asked gruffly, not bothering to hide the skepticism in his voice. "Seems a bit off balance to me... but then again, I ain't never driven anything like it." He crossed his arms over his chest again, leaning back against your car as he waited for your response.

Anthony blinked, taken aback by your admission. He wasn't used to people praising him or being grateful for his help; it was so foreign that he didn't quite know how to react. His eyes flickered between yours before eventually settling on the ground, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. "Ah... it's no big deal," he muttered gruffly, still not quite meeting your gaze. "Anyone coulda fixed that car up."

With another shrug of his broad shoulders, Anthony stepped away from the vehicle and gestured toward the open garage door. "Guess you're all set then. Just be careful driving off, yeah? The cops might still be looking for you..." He trailed off, unable to bring himself to sound convincing. After all, he knew full well that there was no way you were leaving his shop alive... at least not without him having a say in the matter.

Anthony's brow furrowed in confusion as you asked to stay another night. It wasn't like he was going to kick you out or anything, but it had been implied that your stay was only temporary until he fixed your car and you could move on with your life. Now this... he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

"Uh..." Anthony muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well... I mean, there's no reason for me to kick you out or anything... but aren't you supposed to be going somewhere else? Your home or something?" He glanced over at your car again, unsure of whether he should offer his spare room for another night when the situation was so uncertain.

Anthony regarded you with a careful expression, studying your face as he weighed the pros and cons in his mind. On one hand, having you stay another night meant he wouldn't have to worry about anyone suspicious coming around asking questions or raising any alarms; it would be safer for both of you if you stayed put. And on the other...well, there was something about this situation that made him uncomfortable. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Alright," he finally said, his voice gruff and reluctant. "One night shouldn't be a problem. But you'd better not make any trouble or anything." His words were stern, but there was a hint of concern beneath the surface that betrayed him. He knew he should probably send you on your way...but something told him it would be best if you stayed put for now.

For both of you.

"Fine," the mechanic grumbled, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he gestured toward the house with a jerk of his thumb. "But try not to make too much noise and keep outta my way." His tone might have been gruff, but there was an unspoken agreement between you now; you were both in this together whether you liked it or not. And as long as he kept an eye on you, he could make sure that neither of you got into any more trouble than necessary.

Anthony narrowed his eyes at your use of the word "home," but said nothing. Instead, he motioned toward his old pickup truck parked in the driveway. "Alright then, hop in. I'll take you to my place." He glanced back over his shoulder as you approached the vehicle, half-expecting you to make another snide remark or try something funny. But when nothing happened, he shrugged and climbed into the driver's seat, starting the engine with a familiar rumble.

As they drove through the quiet streets of town, Anthony found himself wondering what kind of person Marcus really was. Why had he been living on the run? And how long would it be before he had to return to whatever life he'd left behind? The answers to these questions might have made for a good conversation, but something told him that now wasn't the time or place to ask them...not yet anyway.

The ride was mostly silent except for the sound of the engine and the occasional grunt from Anthony as he navigated through town toward his unassuming home on the outskirts of it all. It didn't take long before they arrived, the car rolling to a stop in front of a small, run-down house surrounded by a makeshift fence fashioned from rusted steel and scrap wood. The overgrown yard was filled with weeds and junk, but the place had a certain... charm that only those who didn't have much could appreciate.

Without saying a word, Anthony killed the engine and climbed out of the truck, pausing to survey the property one last time before he turned back to you with an expectant expression on his face. Now that they had arrived at their destination, it was up to you what happened next...and whether or not he could trust you enough to keep

Anthony snorted softly, scratching his chin as he regarded the dilapidated old house with a mixture of affection and embarrassment. "Aw, she's nothin' special," he said gruffly, trying to play it off as if he didn't care about his home at all. "Just a place to lay my head, y'know?"

He paused, studying you for a moment before continuing, voice softer now. "It ain't much, but it's been good enough for me these past few years... Since she died, anyway." He glanced away, shaking his head as if trying to clear the memory from his mind.

Anthony bit his lip, looking back at you with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. For a moment, he thought about telling you more about himself and his life here...but then again, perhaps it was better left alone for now. It wasn't like either of them had anything to gain by sharing their deepest secrets and regrets with each other just yet anyway.

Anthony studied your face for a moment before nodding slowly. "Nah," he muttered gruffly. "It's been years now...I ain't got much to say about it anymore." He looked away, uncomfortable with the idea of discussing something so personal with someone he hardly knew.

"Come on," he said after a moment, nodding toward his house. "Let's go inside and get you settled in. We can talk more tomorrow, if you want to." The offer was made begrudgingly; Anthony didn't know why exactly, but the thought of spending any more time with you than necessary made him uneasy somehow. But for now, there wasn't much else he could do but humor your curiosity and let fate play its hand however it would...

As they walked up the creaky wooden steps and across the porch toward the front door, Anthony glanced back at you out of the corner of his eye. You seemed like a decent enough sort...just a bit lost and confused about things. But then again, who wasn't? The thought made him wonder if maybe he was just being too hard on you...or maybe even a little unfair.

When they reached the door, Anthony unlocked it with a creak before holding it open for you to enter ahead of him. The inside of his house was much nicer than it looked from the outside; well-lit and comfortable despite its worn furnishings and threadbare carpeting. A small television sat atop an old wooden stand in one corner, while an even older recliner with frayed armrests dominated another part of the room.

"You can have that bed over there," he said gruffly, nodding toward a plain, unadorned bed on the far side of the room. "Just be sure to make it up when you're done." Without waiting for your response, Anthony turned and headed down a short hallway, leading you deeper into his humble abode...and deeper into the tangled web of their fates.

As you followed him down the hallway, Anthony couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right about this situation. You seemed a bit too interested in his life and how he lived, almost as if...as if you were trying to draw him out somehow. It made him uneasy, but he tried not to let it show. After all, you weren't the first stranger to find their way into town, and he had managed to survive this long without any major incidents.

They reached a small, cramped kitchen where Anthony began rummaging through cabinets and drawers before pulling out a plate of cold leftovers from the fridge. "Dinner's not much," he said gruffly as he set the plate on the Formica-topped table. "But it'll do." Without waiting for your response, he took his seat at the table and began eating with relish, his broad shoulders hunched forward over the meal.

It was silent in the room save for the sounds of their muted TV and Anthony's determined chewing as they ate. You could tell that he wanted to ask you more questions about yourself and your past, but for now, he decided it would be better not to push his luck. There was always tomorrow after all...and with any luck, things might become clearer then.

Anthony paused in mid-chew, glancing up at you before he continued eating. "Oh, not quite that long," he mumbled between bites. "I've only been doing this sort of thing since she passed away." He paused again, his gaze flickering briefly toward the living room where an old photo of a smiling woman in her younger years sat on top of a rickety television stand.

"But I did work on cars before that," he added quickly, not wanting to dwell too much on the past. "Grew up around them, really. My dad was a mechanic and everything." He shrugged one broad shoulder as if it didn't matter now. It had been years since anyone had asked him about his life before all this...and even then, it hadn't been someone he'd wanted to talk to that much. But for some reason, your presence here tonight was making him feel...different.

Anthony snorted softly, wiping his hands on a rag before setting it aside. "I guess you could say that," he replied noncommittally. "But we weren't the closest of pals or anything like that." He shrugged again, his expression unreadable. "He was always busy with work, and I spent most of my time either helping him out or getting into trouble by myself." The memory seemed to weigh heavily on him for a moment; it had been years since anyone had asked about his family without any ulterior motives.

"Anyway," he said abruptly, standing up from the table and taking their plates to the sink. "Why don't you get some rest? Tomorrow's going to be an early day." His tone was gruff, but there was a certain understanding in his eyes that made it almost gentle. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was beginning to see the appeal of having someone else around...even if it was only for a little while.

Anthony waited until you'd cleared the table and put away your dishes before he turned back to face you. "Well," he said gruffly, folding his arms across his broad chest as he leaned against the counter. "You probably want to use that bed over there." He nodded toward the room where the plain unadorned bed sat. "There's a spare set of sheets and blankets in one of those drawers if you need them."

It was out with it now, all said and done; there was no avoiding this anymore. You could either sleep on the couch or make use of his guest room...and he couldn't quite bring himself to kick you out onto the streets just yet. Perhaps spending another night under his roof would be what you needed most right now.

"Goodnight, Marcus," Anthony said quietly, already beginning to drift away. "Don't let the bedbugs bite." There was a faint hint of amusement in his voice that you couldn't quite place, but before you could ask about it, he disappeared into the living room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

As you lay there in the darkness, thoughts racing through your mind like frightened mice in the night, you couldn't help but wonder about the man whose home you now found yourself in. There was something about him that made you feel...off-kilter. Almost as if he wasn't quite what he seemed to be. It could just be your imagination, of course; after all, life on the run will do strange things to a person's head.

But then again... Anthony Lloyd was no ordinary mechanic, that much was certain. The way he handled himself when he fixed your car...the way he spoke and moved with such confidence and ease...it all suggested something more than just a simple blue-collar job. Perhaps it would be wise to tread carefully around him from now on; after all, the last thing you needed was to make another enemy while trying to find your way home.

Eventually, exhaustion wins out over curiosity, and sleep claims you as its prize. Dreams of cars and racing engines and warm summer nights replace the reality of where you are now, carrying you away on waves of restorative dreaming. But even in your slumber, the back of your mind remains wary, alert to any sign that things might not be quite what they seem...just like Anthony Lloyd himself.

As you slept peacefully through the night, the sounds of Anthony's routine lulled you into an unconscious state. The gentle creak of floorboards as he padded around the house, followed by the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen told a story of solitude and self-sufficiency. There were moments when you thought you heard him muttering to himself, murmuring words that floated away into nothingness like smoke on a summer breeze.

And yet... Something about those whispers unsettled you; they seemed somehow familiar but out of place all at once. You tried to ignore them, telling yourself it was just your imagination playing tricks on you in the quiet darkness of the night. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something more going on here...that perhaps you had stumbled onto a secret even Anthony hadn't intended to share with you.

As dawn began to creep across the sky outside the small town, casting a pale yellow glow over the world, you finally drifted out of sleep, yawning and stretching as you roused from your dreams. The events of last night came flooding back into your memory, leaving you feeling uneasy once again...but there was nothing to be done about it now. With a heavy sigh, you sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, wondering what today would bring and how much longer you could afford to stay here before danger found its way back into your life again.

As you emerged from the bedroom, a faint scent of coffee wafting in the air, you noticed that the house was empty save for the muffled sound of a news broadcast coming from the living room. Taking this as your cue, you quietly made your way across the creaky floorboards and into the living area. The mechanic sat sprawled out on an old couch, his eyes fixed on the television screen with a distant expression in his dark eyes.

You cleared your throat softly to get his attention, but it didn't seem to faze him; he merely glanced up at you before returning his gaze back to the screen. "Morning," he grunted without bothering to turn away from what he was watching. "Help yourself to some coffee." He nodded toward a small table where a half-empty pot and several mugs sat steaming gently.

"Not too bad," the mechanic muttered gruffly, still not looking in your direction. "Better than you probably did, I'd wager." His tone was unapologetic, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity in his voice that suggested he wasn't entirely sure why he'd said it.

As you watched the news anchor droning on about the latest political scandal, Anthony seemed to grow more and more restless. Every few seconds, his gaze would flicker back toward you as if to gauge your reaction to whatever was being said. It was almost like he was waiting for you to say something...or do something...but what?

"You planning on sticking around here much longer?" he asked abruptly, finally turning to face you fully. There was a hint of suspicion in his voice that made you uneasy. "Or are you just passing through on your way to somewhere else?" He fixed you with a piercing gaze, as if he expected the truth to slip out of your mouth even if you tried to keep it hidden.

Anthony studied your face for a long moment before letting out a bitter laugh. "Ain't that the story of my life," he muttered beneath his breath. "Always ending up somewhere I don't want to be, doing things I don't wanna do." He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "Look, Marcus," he said eventually, sounding more tired than angry now. "You can stay here as long as you need. My old man always said there was room for one more at the table, even if it meant crowding."

The mechanic paused, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "But," he continued, almost reluctantly, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't ask too many questions about things...about me, I mean. It's just that..." He trailed off, not quite sure how to put it into words. "Some people have a habit of making trouble where there isn't any."

As the silence stretched between them, Marcus couldn't help but wonder if Anthony was speaking from experience. Whatever secrets he might be hiding, they seemed to weigh heavily on him...and while part of you wanted to help him unburden himself, another part was afraid that digging too deep would only make things worse for both of them in the end.

Anthony glanced away, focusing once more on the news program playing out before them on the television screen. "I appreciate that," he muttered after a moment. "But it's not really anything you need to worry about...or get mixed up in." His voice was gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument or discussion.

As the minutes ticked by and neither of you spoke further on the subject, Anthony found his attention being drawn back to the television again. He seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowing as he watched the newscaster deliver her report without even seeming to register what she was saying. It was clear that whatever memories or regrets were swirling around inside his head, they were taking their toll on him in more ways than one.

The silence hung heavy between you for several long minutes before Anthony finally stood up with a sigh and stretched tiredly. "I guess I better get going," he said, his voice gruff with weariness. "Got some work I need to do today." Without waiting for your reply, the mechanic headed toward the front door, pausing only briefly to glance back at you over his shoulder. "Don't go anywhere," he muttered under his breath before disappearing out into the bright morning sunlight.

Anthony hummed softly to himself as he worked on his trusty old truck in the garage. The steady rhythm of tools against metal and the familiar scent of grease and oil filled the air, providing a sort of comfort that nothing else could match. It was peaceful here, away from the prying eyes and the constant pressure of being someone's responsibility...even if only for a little while.

He paused in his work to wipe the sweat from his brow, glancing up at the open garage doors before looking back down at the engine. The image of Marcus tidying up the garden outside flashed through his mind, and he couldn't help but feel...uneasy. The kid was harmless enough, sure, but there was something about him that kept setting off alarms in the back of Anthony's head. Maybe it was just a gut feeling, or perhaps it was something more.

Shaking his head to clear the thought from his mind, Anthony focused once again on the task at hand, determined not to let anything - or anyone - distract him today. Because tomorrow would be worse...and the day after that even worse than that. And so he worked, lost in the familiar routine of repair and maintenance, trying desperately to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him that things weren't going to get any easier anytime soon.

Anthony returned home well after dark, tired and hungry from his day's work. The sight that greeted him as he entered the living room - a half-naked Marcus fast asleep on the couch with only a towel around his waist - made him pause in surprise. It was hardly the first time he'd come home to find someone else using his furniture, but there was something about this particular scenario that set his instincts on edge.

With a resigned sigh, Anthony went into the kitchen and fixed himself some dinner. As he sat down at the table to eat, he couldn't help but steal glances over at Marcus every now and then, wondering what had happened while he was gone. And why did it feel like there was more going on here than just a simple case of someone needing a place to stay for the night?

Anthony looked up as you spoke, his expression unreadable. "Yeah," he said curtly, not seeming to notice your discomfort. "I'm back." He went back to eating his dinner, taking slow methodical bites and chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. There was a pause as he considered what to say next, but eventually, he decided against it. Better just to let you simmer in your own awkwardness for a while, maybe it'd prompt you to move along sooner rather than later.

"You want something to eat?" he asked finally, gesturing toward the table where a plate of leftovers sat untouched. "I made enough for two." It was a half-hearted offer at best, but it might help keep you from feeling quite so alone.

Anthony looked up at you as you spoke, his expression briefly softening. "Ah," he said, nodding slightly in understanding. "Well, my clothes probably wouldn't fit you anyway." He paused for a moment before continuing, "But I can give you some spare stuff to wear until we find something better. Just go into the bedroom and you'll see a chest of drawers on the right-hand side. The underwear should be in the top drawer, and there are some jeans and shirts in the second one down."

The mechanic returned his attention to his dinner, not really bothering to wait for your response as he continued to eat. It was almost like he'd already forgotten you were there, which only served to make you feel even more self-conscious than before. But at least now you had something else to do besides just stand around and watch him eat, so that was something.

Anthony glanced up briefly as you returned to the table before looking back down at his dinner, his expression unreadable as ever. "No problem," he muttered around a mouthful of food, continuing to eat in silence while you dug into your own plate. The ticking of a clock on the kitchen wall was the only sound that filled the air between you, making the tension seem almost palpable at times.

Eventually, when it became clear that Anthony had no intention of starting another conversation anytime soon, Marcus cleared his throat and stood up from the table. "Well," he said awkwardly, "I guess I'll just... head back to bed now." He paused for a moment before adding, "Thanks again for everything..." His voice trailed off as he turned and walked away, leaving Anthony alone with his thoughts once more.

The mechanic sighed heavily and finished off the last of his dinner, washing the dishes carefully before heading back out into the garage to continue working on one of his many projects. The evening stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, each tick of the clock drawing him further away from any sense of peace or normalcy he might have found in the company of the mysterious stranger who'd stumbled into his life.

But it was too late now. There was no going back. The only thing left to do was to keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other, and hope that somehow, someway, things would sort themselves out before they spiraled completely out of control.