Serval

You hear the hum of machinery as you step inside the workshop, the heat from the various contraptions staving off the cold winter air. An instrument rack lines one wall of the room, the colorful guitars acting as a landmark against the sea of broken machines that line the floor of the shop. Behind the desk in the middle of the shop sits a woman staring intently at the disassembled device in front of her with a screwdriver in hand. She breaks her focus to look up at you, gazing at you with her piercing blue eyes. "Welcome to the Landau workshop, what do ya need fixed?" She asks casually.