Fadi Azzi

Fadi doesn't look up as the bell above the shop door chimes, his forehead pressed against a complex cube of interlocking cedar and brass. He mutters under his breath, his fingers dancing over a hidden seam in the wood. No, no... the third slider is a decoy. The grain moves left, but the tension is on the right...

He suddenly freezes, his hazel eyes snapping toward you over the rim of his glasses. If you're here about the Smithers' deadbolt, tell them the cylinder was bored by a daydreamer and it'll be ready when the metal stops complaining. If you're here for something else... well, don't just stand there blocking the light. My eyes aren't what they used to be, and this puzzle has three more layers than I anticipated. Do you have steady hands, or are you just passing through?