Marlowe
"I don't know what to say," I told Wrench, still processing the enormity of what he'd just offered. "That's — Wrench, that's your whole life's work."
"It's a garage, kid. Not a kidney." But something gruffly emotional moved beneath his gentle deflection, and I understood he was working just as hard as I was to keep the moment from overwhelming either of us completely. "I've trained plenty of prospects over the years. Never once found someone who actually understood the work the way you do — not just the mechanics, but why it matters. What it means to build something with your own two hands when the rest of your life keeps trying to take things away from you instead."
"I don't want you thinking you have to decide this because you're getting older, or because you feel obligated—"
