Stewart was sweating under the Mercedes, his shirt sticking to his back as he tried to reach a part deep inside the engine bay.
He shifted, cursed quietly, and tried again. The car's build was tight and complicated, giving him more trouble than he expected.
Frustration built fast. He tugged at a hose, then at a smaller connection, testing what he could disturb without drawing too much attention.
After a few failed tries, he finally grunted and decided to make small, subtle changes, enough to cause a stall later without looking like tampering.
From a short distance away, Nikolai leaned on a workbench and watched silently.
Soon enough, Stewart slid out from under the car with a grin, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. "Look at that, managed to fix it. Should be able to drive quiet now."
The man Moreno had left gave a short nod. He walked to the car, reached inside, and pulled out an envelope. Without a word, he handed it to Stewart.
Stewart's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, you're not gonna test it?"
"The boss will have someone do that," the man said flatly. "For now, you're paid. If there's a problem, we'll contact you."
Stewart quickly hid his shock and nodded, clutching the envelope. "Thank you."
The man didn't respond. He got into the Mercedes, started the engine, and rolled out smoothly.
Nikolai watched carefully. The car purred without a single hiccup. He had to admit, the old man knew his craft, whatever else Stewart was, he was a real mechanic.
After the man drove off, Stewart walked back into the shop, already thumbing through the thick envelope. He counted the bills as he passed Nikolai without so much as a glance.
"Any chance I get some of that?" Nikolai asked, smiling faintly.
"Tch." The old man just scoffed, eyes never leaving the money.
Nikolai chuckled and shook his head.
Nikolai decided to clean up the work area before heading out.
Even if he wasn't the same man who had walked into this shop two years ago, it didn't change the fact that he needed the job.
No matter how much experience you had in crime, if you had nothing at the moment, you took what you could get. And right now, this was all he had.
He put tools back where they belonged, swept stray bits of wire and bolts into a tray, and wiped down the bench.
When he finished, he saw Stewart coming toward him, still holding that smug grin from earlier but now tempered with something else. "Kid, come over here," Stewart called.
Nikolai walked over slowly, drying his hands with a rag as he went. Stewart reached out and clapped a hand onto his shoulder, squeezing just enough to make the touch controlling. Nikolai didn't move, didn't flinch, but his eyes stayed on Stewart's face.
"Look here, kid," Stewart said, leaning in. "I brought you into this shop because I thought you had balls of a bull. You agreed to do the job, and then you lost them today." His hand pressed a little harder, testing him, almost daring him to react.
Nikolai stayed still. Calm. Blank.
"I'm disappointed in you," Stewart added, voice lower now, trying to cut deep.
Nikolai looked at the old man's wrinkled face and slowly reached up, moving the hand off his shoulder.
He had to control himself, really control himself. In his past life, if someone had grabbed him like that, they would have been on the ground in seconds.
The old John Crowe wouldn't have taken a single word of disrespect, and walking away from the job would have been unthinkable.
But that was then.
He closed his eyes for a breath and opened them again. Anger had been one of his biggest flaws. Pride too.
Both had cost him before. He'd promised himself he wouldn't let those things run his new life the same way they had his old one.
And this was Stewart, a grumpy old man who'd given him a place when he had nothing.
Beating him or even threatening him would be pointless. It would feel like swinging a bat at someone unarmed.
So he just stepped back, face neutral, not a word said.
It was better this way. Better to keep control. Better to wait and choose the right battles.
Nikolai stayed quiet and only nodded.
Stewart let out a breath through his nose. "Kid, this work ain't clean. Everyone wants to play it straight, but the world doesn't care what you want.
Sometimes you take what's in front of you or you starve. Thought you'd know that by now, especially if you grew up here."
He stopped for a second, eyes narrowing slightly. "I knew your father. Not well, but enough. Saw him around back in the day."
That caught Nikolai's attention, but he didn't show it.
Stewart went on, matter-of-fact. "Point is, life's risk. If you're scared of it, don't bother breathing."
A faint huff of laughter slipped out of Nikolai, more at the bluntness than the message.
Stewart shook his head and patted his shoulder once, quick and firm. "Lighten up." Then, without ceremony, he pulled a few folded notes from his pocket and handed them over.
It was enough to surprise Nikolai. Stewart wasn't generous, especially not with cash
Nikolai took the money and glanced down, three crisp notes, 300₩.
Maybe this old man wasn't as bad as he'd thought.
He didn't agree with Stewart's way of thinking, and part of him was still conflicted about how he was handling things here.
Years of living long and staying alive had built caution into him; it made him overanalyze and look for danger everywhere. But he had to remember, he was young again.
Risk was part of the game. Even in his past life, he'd taken plenty, though back then his status had complicated everything. Everyone knew his name; his family was always at risk when he made a move.
Now, he had no ties and no one to protect, full freedom to build from nothing.