[ Despite himself, despite his admittedly pathetic attempts at remaining somewhat - slightly - professional, Anakin can't help but watch. Michel drinks from his glass, his throat bopping gently as he swallows, his lips glistening. The shape of his face is beautifully emphasised by his beard, making his edges look a little sharper, more weighted. He forcefully stops himself from licking his lips again, though, and he counts that as a win, thanks. Shifting, he follows Michel's nod towards the door and oh yeah, the groundskeeper. Possibly the only one of them currently properly invested in the actual fucking car.

About to reply in the affirmative - because yes indeed, he's managed to come prepared because while he hadn't looked up Michel, he knew what kind of car he'd be working on - his words get immediately stuck in his throat at Michel's follow-up. Blushing, is he? Yeah. Yeah, he really, really is, especially now. He could get embarrassed about it but then again, that wouldn't exactly make him blush any less and if Michel's gonna bring it up, then maybe Anakin's just going to give it to him, his job be damned.

Sighing, he shrugs and looks down at his feet briefly before meeting Michel's eyes. ]

I'm not very good at hiding what I feel. Sorry.

[ He nods towards the alternator, squaring his shoulders. ]

I have a spare but not for this particular car - won't impact the car's performance at all, so long as you don't mind the anachronism.