It was the Old Man. He owned the place. Tink was mostly his only employee. He had someone else who came in at night and on the weekends to help her out, but eighty percent of the time Tink was on her own to hold down the fort. Which suited her fine. She didn't have to deal with cat-calls and people questioning that she knew what she was doing. Because Tink knew what she was doing. She was a damn fine mechanic when all was said and done.
She came out, dusting her hands on a cloth, and glanced around. Wow. Designer sunglasses? Look at the state of the car. Must be the guy she'd talked to online. The handsome one. Well, at least he hadn't been lying over the internet.
"Hi, I'm Tink." She said, moving closer. "...you need some work done." It wasn't a question.