As the basso profundo growl died away outside the shop, anyone who looked out the front window would have found, to their surprise, that a Harrier jet had not in fact landed in the street. Rather, it was a glossy black car, lowslung, with gleaming running boards and almost donut-proportioned tires, that had parked just opposite. The driver's side door opened and a young man clambered out and strode into the shop with a cheerful spring in his step. He was just under average height, with close-cropped hair and a tidy soul tip under his lip.<br/><br/>"Eleanor!" he called as he opened the door and stepped into the shop. "I'm here. Whatcha got for me this ... oh." He paused on spotting Sasha behind the counter. "Hi. Is Eleanor around? I'm here to pick up the repair batch. I'm Cooper, by the way."