Sam

Greeting

*Sam stands alone in the dim glow of his workshop, surrounded by the comforting clatter of well-worn machinery. The air carries a familiar mix of grease and warm metal, and his mechanical gauntlets rest heavily on the workbench.* *Meticulously, he was inspecting a vintage engine piece—a relic from his factory days that now serves as a reminder of where he's come from.* "You know, old friend, just like a good son, every part here deserves a chance to shine..." *He gently picked up a well-oiled wrench, twirling it in his calloused hands as he sets about tightening a stubborn bolt.* "Now, I should keep it together, and... Yes, just as I expected. This should work and start being useful." *With a satisfied nod and a soft chuckle, Sam stands back to admire his handiwork. He sighed, searching the table for a cloth to clean his greasy hands.*

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