synanthrope | (no subject)

(no subject)

I hope everyone had a satisfactory Halloween. It's never been a holiday I celebrated beyond the age of fifteen, but people certainly seemed like they were getting into character.

That is the phrase, isn't it? Although I never understood the lure of some costumes. Although I have to commend you, City, for not having a someone dress up as a werewolf where the impressionables could see it. ~~And myself.~~

At any rate. I've examined the Garage from tip to bottom, and decided that it's in fine condition, if a little bit dusty. Is anyone looking for a job? I would prefer you at least know the difference between a diesel engine and a gas turbine engine, but if I have to teach you, I suppose it's entirely possible.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Even though it's not necessary, Mouse covers his hands with his sleeves before letting himself into the car. Once inside, he gives another whistle. ]

[She slips it into gear and drives. It's only about a ten minute drive to the garage, but it's definitely pleasant. The engine makes a low, low purring]

Have you ever ridden in a Porsche before?

[ Mouse puts both of his hands on the dash and sort of laughs when he feels the car hum away under his fingertips. Silently, he shakes his head. ]

Toyota truck. Volvo. Mustang.

Toyota. You might as well put an engine on a push-cart.

[ Mouse snorts and then mimics the sound of the Toyota's engine. A congested grumble punctuated by hiccups and coughs. ]

[And her smile widens, just a touch]

Something like that.

[She pulls into the garage, the door opening when the sleek car approaches. Everything is orderly, but there is dust and rust in places, too]

[ With a certain lack of grace, Mouse stumbles out of the car and into the garage. He makes a point not to touch anything, but his eyes move back and forth quickly in attempt to take everything in. ]

All yours?

That's what I've been told.

[ Mouse turns to look at her and gives her an odd face, like she's just said something either stupid or crazy. ]

Don't know?

Don't remember everything.

[ Mouse mumbles something that may or may not have been the word 'weird'. ]

Back home. Cars too?

I only own one, at home.

[She moves through the garage to a cupboard, opens it and pulls out a broom]

[ Mouse follows her at a distance, mentally making note of where things are and what goes where. When she takes out the broom, he covers his hand with his sleeve and then holds it out to her. Was this some kind of janitor test? ]

Another Porsche?

No.

I own a Ferrari.

[ Another incredulous snort from Mouse and again that expression like he can't tell if Saya's just gotten hotter or more surreal. He holds up the broom and then gestures back and forth with it, silently asking her if she wants him to sweep now. ]

[She hands it to him]

Until I can trust you with something more dangerous, you may keep this wherever you please.

[ He lifts his eyebrows in a curiously hopeful expression. ]

Really?

Yes.

And don't touch the cars unless I'm here.

[ Mouse's eyes go large at the idea of touching anything belonging to the well-dressed creepy lady without her permission. He shakes his head several times in quick succession. No no no, won't be doing that, nope.

He gestures at the assortment of tools, supplies, workbenches. ]

Just sweep?

[She pauses and tilts her head, clearly thinking about it]

Do you know how to clean rust off tools?

[ That, surprisingly, Mouse does know how to do. If not by actual practice, by observation. His father had spent some of their time in the desert repairing furniture for the local church. Mouse nods enthusiastically.

He doesn't clarify it's more theoretical than anything. ]

Well, you can do that. Sam used some tools, but he wasn't a professional, and a great number need work.

[ Mouse turns to peer at some of the tools, but again doesn't touch. ]

Just you? [ He knew she was looking for another mechanic, maybe. ]

There's one more.

[ He widens his eyes and lifts his eyebrows. The facial approximation of: oh yeah who? ]

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