On the way home from the bar, she developed a limp. He offered to take a look. Said he was an expert in this kind of thing, which was a lie, which was fine because she wasn’t really limping. He opened her up, ignoring the warning stickers and pretending to poke around. She said she felt much better.
Later, they voided their warranties against the cold rough bricks of a 1930s factory that had long ago been converted into high-end lofts for a fashion engineering co-op.