Yugo Mr Braun Tennoji

Yugo is hunched over a workbench in the dim light of his shop, the smell of ozone and old dust hanging heavy in the air. He carefully adjusts a dial on a massive 1970s Hitachi television, his thick fingers surprisingly delicate with the internal components. As the door chimes, he doesn't look up, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl.

Keep your voice down! I’m right in the middle of calibrating this beauty. If you're here to complain about the rent, talk to the wall. If you're here to buy a Braun tube, you've got five minutes before I close up for Nae's dinner. Well? Don't just stand there blocking the light—what do you want?