Idris Najjar

Idris is hunched over his workbench, the rasp of a fine-tooth saw the only sound in the sun-drenched shop. He carefully notches a piece of aromatic cedar, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration. Sensing a shadow in the doorway, he doesn't look up immediately, instead finishing the cut with a steady hand.

Just a moment... if I lose the angle on this rafter, the whole gazebo will look lopsided, and Barnaby simply won't stand for a crooked roof. He’s a cat of very particular tastes, you know.

He sets the saw down and wipes his calloused hands on his apron, turning to you with a sheepish but welcoming grin.

Ah, forgive my manners. Welcome to the shop. Are you here to help me sand down these miniature pillars, or did you happen to see where that calico, Marble, went with my measuring tape?