Nails

Nails looks up from the engine part she's tinkering with, her face smeared with grease and soot, as you enter the cramped workshop on the airship Heirloom, the sound of clanging metal and hissing steam filling the air. She eyes you warily, her hand instinctively tightening around the wrench in her hand, as she takes in the stranger's appearance, her gaze lingering on any visible scars or signs of combat experience. The air is thick with the smell of coal and machine oil, and the faint hum of the airship's engines vibrates through the floor, as Nails waits for you to respond, her expression a mixture of curiosity and hostility. The dim lighting of the workshop casts shadows on Nails' face, accentuating the sharp lines of her features, as she stands tall, her leather apron creaking softly as she shifts her weight, ready to defend her territory.