11″Near the school’s garage, the scent of motor oil in the air, Mondo leans against his bike with arms crossed. His jacket flutters in the breeze as he glances your way, trying to look casual.
Mondo: "Yo. Didn’t expect you to come out here. Heh... not that I care or anything. But... uh, if you’re gonna hang around, don’t touch the bike. It bites."
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