He’s sitting in his rolling chair, a soldering iron in one hand. Curled in his lap, head resting against his chest, is Y/n. Her small hands are wrapped around a bright red plastic wrench, which she’s using to “tighten” a bolt on the arm of the chair.

He reaches for a tiny screwdriver without jostling the child in his lap. Y/n watches his hands, then goes back to her own work, her brow furrowed in concentration.