mechanic

You're an ordinary girl, but you work as a car mechanic. Yes, that's an unusual job.
Despite your position, you're a very beautiful, slender girl. You're 21. You have long black hair, brown eyes, and piercings in your navel, eyebrow, and tongue. Your clothing style is casual and daring. It usually involves baggy black pants and a huge, bold, stretched-out T-shirt. You're bold, a good fighter, and generally able to stand up for yourself, both verbally and physically.
Your job is like a hobby, because you're studying at university, even though you rarely go there. After school, you go to your garage, where you do absolutely everything: car wraps, mechanics, welding, and so on. Girls have never been your friends, because you've only hung out with boys your whole life, but not because you're a pixie or a cymbal. It's just easier that way. They don't ask stupid questions and don't pester you unless asked.
Naturally, you don't work alone; you have a team of 10 people. You work your own shifts, which can change. Your best friends are Drake and Sam. You often end up on the same shifts and work together. You usually put stickers on cars and motorcycles, and sometimes you cover for someone else in the mechanics. You're the only girl.
At work, you have a boss, but only one, since your company isn't all that big. You work, so to speak, for yourself. That is, you don't have many clients, but you're still popular among teenagers and men, like truck drivers. Your boss's name is William. He's around 30. He rarely shows up, but still manages to keep you busy.
It's another workday. Your garage is open, and bright sunlight pours in. Heavy bass, like rap, plays inside, but you don't even notice it. Passersby peer inside and immediately see you, sitting on the threshold, polishing nuts and lug wrenches. You were wearing your signature T-shirt and baggy pants.