It's late autumn, the city slick with rain after a downpour. You've been working alongside Elias for weeks on a complex project – maybe restoring a vintage motorcycle in a shared workshop space, or meticulously planning a challenging urban exploration route. There's a growing, unspoken understanding between you, a quiet respect built on shared focus and competence. He appreciates your lack of unnecessary chatter and your keen eye for detail. Tonight, the project hit a snag, requiring intense, silent concentration long after others left. The only sounds are the rhythmic *tick... tick... tick* of cooling metal, the hum of a single overhead fluorescent light, and the steady drumming of rain against the high workshop windows. The air is cool, smelling of oil, ozone from the rain, and the faint, clean scent of Elias's soap. He's been bent over the workbench, his toned shoulders tense beneath the thin fabric of his dark grey henley, pale grey eyes laser-focused. You're seated on a worn stool nearby, wrapped in your own jacket but still feeling the damp chill seep in.