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"Whoa, are you—"
"Hm?"
"You're totally the Sato girl!" Someone says, and Asami looks up from her moped, and the guy is putting a reddish brown helmet on the seat of his motorcycle (fancy that) and walking her way.
"I... guess I am?" she says, tentatively, because people don't usually recognise her off-the-bat, she keeps mostly a low profile with the city's reporters and journalists, so being referred to as "The Sato Girl" completely because of her looks is more than a little off-putting.
The guy tilts his head slightly and slips his goggles up to his forehead, the green tinting his hair slightly. "I work for your father. Well, with your father. Well, with a man who works with your father. But you know how it is."
"I... suppose," she says, toeing the kickstand of her moped down. The shop’s not deserted, she can see; there’s a guy over in a far corner with brown hair watching as two mechanics look after his motorcycle (seriously, did this place happen to specialise in motorcycles and was she just lucky?), and someone else just leaving the shop after paying her fee, so it’s—it’s not exactly a deserted street corner, but she still doesn't trust this guy.
I'm Botan," he says, circling around his motorcycle and extending a hand. "I know you don't know me, but I have to say, your father is a great man. I can't appreciate the things he does more than I do now."
"Okay..." Asami stands up fully, and, putting on a smile, shakes his hand firmly and pleasantly. She expects a look of surprise at her grip, but there isn’t one, no slowly dawning comprehension at the full extent of her grip, and normally with everyone assuming she was Daddy's Little Girl, pampered, spoiled, she would have been subtly pleased by that fact, enjoyed this person who seemed to know of her and not judge her based on partial knowledge, but nothing about this meeting doesn't make her uncomfortable.
As the conversation continues Asami keeps an eye on the other patrons of the shop, watching the guy with the brown hair watching the mechanics work on his car, watching other workers in the shop walk about their business, breaking the conversation briefly to explain what had happened to her moped while she was out, what it had sounded like, how loud the abnormal rumbling was, and everything that had happened up to the rumbling's start, then (regrettably) going back to the conversation with Botan. She glances around his shoulder as the shop workers take to his motorcycle, but he ignores them, unfazed, intent on talking with her than watching his bike as two men probe and partially disassembled it to discover its malfunction.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" Botan asks abruptly. "I would have thought the Satos had their own private auto shop, considering... you know." He shrugs and gestures to... all of her, which, wow, Asami likes this guy less and less. She sees the brown haired guy glance over at them and roll his eyes.
"We do, and I'm actually fairly decent at fixing things myself, but my moped just started acting up on the street, and, well, this place was the closest."
"Really? Couldn't fix it up this time, huh?" Botan asks, shuffling a bit closer on the bench they’re leaning on.
Asami tilts her head and leans a hand on her moped. "Doesn't look like it," she says, reaching for her helmet, and she is going to punch him upside the face if he moves any closer, or maybe she'll just punch him anyway because she’d really like to at this point, or kick him across the shins, that’d work too, and she has just managed to get a good hold on the strap of her helmet as Botan opened his mouth to say something more, when—
"Excuse me." The guy with the brown hair walks up and blatantly grips Botan on the shoulder, shoving him around. "I think your motorcycle is finished, and—" he waves to the shop workers, awkwardly standing beside Botan's motorcycle and unsure of what to do "—you should probably pay them. They're on commission, after all."
Botan glares veritable daggers at the guy, who just smirks and puts both hands in his pockets. "And who do you think you are?" he spits out, a fist clenching at his side.
"Better than you," the guy says, and he then takes out a hand and snaps his fingers, and just like that there’s a gout of flame floating loose in the air above his hand, and he holds it up for Botan to get a good look, a really good look, and yeah, Asami totally knows this guy now.
Botan grinds his teeth and glares and Asami watches a spectrum of anger and hate flash on his face. After an uncertain moment of tension he turns abruptly, muttering, and goes to inspect his motorcycle and close the transaction with the shop’s workers. A few other people peek over timidly, not liking the idea of a show-y firebender in their workspace.
The guy chuckles and extinguishes the flame in his palm, then turns to look at Asami with one of the smarmiest smiles she’s ever seen. Asami rolls her eyes and prepares for another bout of stupid conversation, but instead he spins on his heel and saunters back over to his bike, where it looks as if the repairs are almost done. She sighs, asks herself a hundred self-deprecating questions, and decides to never come to a regular auto shop ever, ever again.
Later, when her moped is fixed and she's paid the fee and finally out of the shop, she sees, of course, the same guy waiting outside, leaning against his bike. Asami just stands, makes a face at him, and after a short while he shrugs and saunters over, hands in his pockets again.
Asami crosses her arms and when he's close enough to hear, she says, "I can handle myself, you know."
"Mm," he says, noncommittally. "I just like shaking up a little fun." He sticks out a hand, gloved, to shake. "Name's Shaozu, by the way."
"Uh huh. Of the Wolf-Bats." She takes his hand and shakes it, and this time she does see the usual surprise at the surety of her grip, though only briefly.
Shaozu, though, flashes her the same smarmy grin as before. "So you're a fan, then?"
Asami gives her sweetest, most charming smile. "Used to be a fan."
Before he has a chance to respond, she lets go, straps on her helmet and flips her goggles down, and rides off.