"Hello!"

"Hi. Were you waiting by the door?"

"I was," Howard replied, nodding, "I'm very excited. Nobody else is as interested in cars as I am."

Howard let Lance inside and led him to the garage door. Mrs. Sanchez was in the kitchen with Aiden, leaning over the sink. They both looked up as they walked by.

"Hello, Lance! Good to see you again, Howard."

"Good morning, dear." Howard kissed Mrs. Sanchez's cheek as he walked past. "Looking lovely as ever."

"It's three in the afternoon, Howard."

"Good afternoon, dear!" Howard pressed a kiss to her other cheek, laughing. "Looking lovelier than ever."

After quick pleasantries, Howard practically dragged Lance into the garage.

The car was as beautiful as it could have been. Her paint was peeling, just as Howard had said, but he had sanded down most of the paint that stuck up. Her front windshield was cracked, but they'd likely have to bring it into a shop to fix that. Lance ran his hand over her hood as he watched Howard jostle the door open.

"Does she have a name?" Lance's voice was quiet, as though he wasn't sure he was asking the question. Howard looked up with wide eyes and paused.

"Coraline." His voice was equally as quiet. "I call her Coral. She's named after my mother."

"I think that's a wonderful name."

"I believed so too."

The two stood in silence for a moment before Howard clapped his hands together and stepped back.

"What do we need to do?"

Lance hadn't changed a manual transmission in years. It took the two of them and some help from Mrs. Sanchez to change the parts, and it ended up taking up hours. Howard sighed and stepped back, admiring their work as Mrs. Sanchez sat in the passenger seat.

"She's one step closer to being on the roads."

"Do you mind if I pop the hood?" Lance already had his hand on the button. "I just want to see what it looks like."

"Go for it." Howard didn't seem entirely focused on the conversation.

"Howard, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Howard waved Mrs. Sanchez's words away. Lance popped the hood open. "I'm just excited I get to work on her."

"Alright. Lance, will you be staying for dinner?"

"Oh, I don't want to intrude," Lance replied, closing the hood, "I'm all gross with car goop, and I ate here yesterday."

"Well, I'm sure we can lend you a shower and a sweater," Mrs. Sanchez assured him, getting out of the car. "I already told Aiden to set the table for an extra seat."

"If you're sure it's not a problem, I suppose I could stay."

"It's not a problem, Querido." Mrs. Sanchez patted Lance's cheek lightly. "Howard, are you coming inside?"

"Yes. I'll be in a few minutes. Go ahead and clean up, Lance."

Mrs. Sanchez led Lance inside and upstairs, where she opened the door to a good-sized bathroom. She handed him a clean towel and promised to be back with a clean shirt when he was done.

Lance showered as quickly as he could, using only a little bit of body wash. He pulled his pants on and was buckling his belt when there was a knock on the door.

"It's Aiden. I've got you a shirt."

"Oh! Thanks! You can just set it outside."

Once Lance was done with his belt he opened the door and picked up the shirt. When he looked back up, Aiden was still standing there, a concerned look on his face.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Can I ask you a really strange question?"

"Could I finish getting dressed?" Lance suggested, smiling weakly and holding the shirt close to his chest. "I'll answer the question, I just would like to be wearing all my clothes."

"Yeah. Sorry. My bad."

"It's ok. I'm not angry, or anything."

Lance pulled the shirt on and ran his fingers through his hair before looking back at Aiden, smiling a bit more confidently now. He tried to ignore the burning in his face.

"What is it?"

"Were you okay with using the fork I gave you last night?" Aiden's voice was lowered. "I didn't realize until it was too late that I had given you my least favorite fork, and I'm just wondering if you were alright with it."

"I didn't mind!" Lance replied, relieved that the question wasn't life-changing. "I prefer textured forks over plain ones - I crave hand sensories. That's part of why I became a scientist. To do things with my hands."

"Alright. Thank you. Perdón."

"Oh! That's French!" Lance's face lit up. "I know that one!"

"It-It's a way of saying 'sorry' or 'apologies'."

"That's the super direct translation from French to English," Lance explained, "But we use it to say 'excuse me'."

"You speak French?"

"My mother is French. My father is from North Carolina. I was raised speaking both English and French, but my mother was adament I didn't have a southern accent so me and my siblings could be understood if we went abroad."

"Both of my parents are Columbian. I was born there."

"That's really-"

"Cariño! Come help make dinner!"