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Ordinarily, Falco tended to retreat at the drop of a hat at the first sign of customer interaction... but... well... he had to face it. He had sort of a 'thing' for Red-Heads, and he emerged cautiously as the car and it's extremely flat tire opened and spilled out a metaphorical tall drink of water. Red Hair, green eyes, short skirt and loonnnnng legs.

He wasn't exactly alone in his examination either. She probably had the attention of almost the entire shop, and would have the attention of the rest of it when they had the time to lift their heads out of the vehicles they were working on and wipe the oil off of their face.

He wiped his hands clean, or as clean as they were getting this side of a bar of Lava soap.

"Little problem there." He pointed out, a bit more sarcastically than he intended. "How far did you have to roll on that?"

He wasn't entirely surprised that she hadn't tried to change it. Jacking a car and trying to loosen up the lug nuts was, to many people, an highly intimidating, even herculean task, and doing it in what he figured was relatively high fashion (He'd never had an eye for it), must have seemed more so. What was slightly surprising was that she hadn't pulled out a cell phone and called a tow, since he was pretty sure that she wasn't one of their regulars. If she'd been a regular, he was pretty positive he'd have known her on the spot.

"Do you want us to try and fix that here?" he asked. "...Or did you just want to borrow a phone?" Not the option he preferred, but it wasn't nice not to offer.

"I'm going to take a wild guess it was a piece of scrap metal." Falco suggested. "There are some dump trucks that run through here occasionally, and they don't always secure their loads as well as they could. We don't have them on pay-roll, I promise."

He added a thin, wry smile to show he was joking as he pocketed the greasy rag and knelt down by the tire, looking for anything obvious.

"If you put it in neutral we'll roll it in and I'll get it hiked up and get the tire off. If it's not too bad I can patch the tire in a jiff."

It was damned hard to focus on the tire and not the sexy-curves of the emerald green car in front of him, one of those expensive models he might have once dreamed of driving, if he wasn't now working two grease monkey jobs.

The car was at least as sexy as it's driver... or sexier if you were that much of a gear head, though he'd always been more for things with two wheels, not four.

"I can see why, Probably cost as much as your average college tuition." He joked, though it was a bit weaker this time, since he was having trouble taking his eyes off the paint job and curves of the car, though eventually he managed to wander his gaze down to the tire for a preliminary look.

On the up side, he didn't spot any major rents. No tears he could stick a finger into, no spears of metal the width of a pencil. He'd seen most of it at one point or another, and that was just tire damage. Some of the more extensive body work that came in sometimes made you wonder how the driver had crawled out alive, let alone in more or less one piece.

"...Well if we're lucky we might be able to patch this and get you back on the road. I'm not seeing anything super obvious." He added, hoping to improve her mood as he stood up and stepped back, waiting for her to put it in neutral to move into a bay. He wouldn't dream of climbing inside in his grease monkey uniform if he could avoid it. The car was too goddamn pretty.

"Hm? Oh it's Falco." He offered, blinking owlishly as he was torn away from his inspection of the car. "Keep her straight on, I'm going to help push her into the bay." He added. The order was simple enough and saved awkwardness, besides he needed to get the car inside so he could get it up on jacks, preferably without Bob and Keith coming out to flex and start describing the time they'd been spending at the Gym. ((Technically, he supposed, lifting beer cans to your mouth counted as a form of doing curls, so maybe they weren't entirely full of it.))

He didn't give her his last name, deciding to hold it back as he got behind the car and put his weight into it. It would be slow, but he didn't need to roll it in fast. Fast in this case could mean loosing control and smashing into someone's tool chest, which wouldn't do the cars OR the tools any favors, and with some things in the shop, it might get to be a close call which would be more expensive to fix, the shop tools or the car.

...Of course he felt like kicking himself anyway, since he was actually worrying about beating Bob and Keith to the punch, which was ridiculous... but damnit, he did really have a thing for red-heads.

"It's somethin' alright." Falco smiled wryly at the compliment, apparently at some unspoken joke. Fortunately, most people these days had never heard of the musician by that name, let alone the song, and of those, even fewer knew his middle name. He didn't exactly volunteer it anyway. He took a second positioning himself behind the car to find a place to lean that wouldn't jeopardize the body work and started to push.

It took a moment or two for the car to start rolling, but it did, consuming most of his attention for a moment or two.

"Should take about fifteen minutes...half an ho....BREAK!HITTHEBREAK!"

It didn't take too long for him to feel the subtle drift of the car, which was quietly slipping toward the door frame of the bay instead of the bay itself, which wasn't good for... well pretty much anything potentially involved.

Falco heaved a relieved sigh, feeling his knees turn briefly to jelly at the near miss.
"Heh... no problem." He assured, with as much sincerity as he could manage. "Er, yeah, everyone likes pizza." He added, raising an eyebrow in surprise. He was going to have to pass this along to his cousin, though he could already hear the others around the shop perking up as word got around that there might be pizza on the horizon. "I'd better tell the Boss though. I mean it's an really generous idea but if nothing else he's gonna be peeved if he doesn't get word."