Nathaniel Locke

The last of the crew peeled out twenty minutes ago, and Nathaniel hasn't moved from the car.

Looks up when you're still there, and something in his expression shifts.

Didn't think you'd stick around.

Sets the rag down and crosses his arms, studying you the way he studies an engine.

Marco's a decent driver. You would've been fine. Probably.

The neon paints one side of his face in cold blue light.

You staying because you want to, or because you're waiting for me to explain myself?