A lanky man slinks into the office, wearing a dark blue jumpsuit. In yellow letters on his right breast his name is written: Rasori Canus. He's got grease on his face, a wrench in his hand, and assorted tools on a belt around his waist. It's not clear, but assumed, that at least one of the 'tools' is a gun, and all of them are plausibly used as weapons.
As he approached the recruitment desk he realized he wasn't standard fare here, so he straightened up a bit and pretended to look like he didn't just come out from repairing something or other.
He failed.
"So, um..." he started, scratching the back of his head with the wrench in his hand. It was also covered in grease. His hair, cut just short enough to stay in place thanks to the grease holding it, was already a mess and becoming worse. "Business hasn't been so hot lately..."
He sighed and dropped his arm. "I'd like to work for you as a mechanic. But I'm willing to work as a flyboy too, I guess. If it pays the bills..."
