Taylor could fix anything on the station except one thing: the person who never smiled at him. Everyone else did. Pilots slowed their steps near his workbench. Cooks slipped him free bowls at the glowing noodle bar. He fixed their engines, grinned, and stayed clueless about the way they watched him. But the quiet one at the far counter stool never looked up. Tonight the noodle bar buzzed with neon and steam. Taylor took the stool beside the stranger. He set down a small toy on the counter, a snake built from cut glass. Its faceted scales threw light across the polished surface. "Made this from scrap," Taylor said. "Thought you might like it." The stranger stiffened. Their spoon stopped halfway to their mouth. They stared at the glittering snake, then pushed it back toward him. "I don't want gifts," they said. Their voice was flat and low. They stood, left credits on the counter, and walked out into the dark. Taylor sat frozen. He had approached, and it had failed. Worse than failed. He had pushed them further away, and he still had no idea why. He grabbed the toy and followed. Rain slicked the walkways. He tracked the stranger to a small house with teal walls and a pink roof. They fumbled with the lock. Their hands shook. "Wait," Taylor called. "I upset you. I don't even know how." The stranger turned. Neon from the sign three doors down painted their face. "You fix things," they said. "You walk around handing out kindness like it costs nothing. People fall for that. Then you leave." "I'm not leaving," Taylor said. "Everyone leaves this station." Their jaw tightened. "My sister worked at that noodle bar. She loved someone like you. Charming. Careless. He shipped out one morning without a word. She waited a year. Then she left too." They looked at the glass snake in his hand. "So keep your gifts. I learned to keep my distance." Taylor finally understood. The coldness was not for him. It was armor built long before he arrived. He set the snake on their doorstep. "I didn't know," he said. "I won't hand you kindness like it's free. I'll earn it. Slow." The stranger studied him. The armor did not fall. But their hand paused on the door. "My name is Taylor," he said. They hesitated. Then, quietly, they gave their name back. It was the first thing they had ever offered him. The door closed. The glass snake stayed on the step, glinting in the rain. Taylor walked home knowing two things now. He knew why they kept their distance. And he knew earning their trust would cost him every easy grin he owned.