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

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? ]

I'll introduce you when he's by.

[She didn't catch his name, okay?]

[ Mouse nods and gets distracted by Saya's shoes, which he stares at for a while. She'd be wearing fancy shoes in his dream, hadn't she?

He wonders if this other guy is a weirdo too. ]

Every day?

[She's always wearing fancy shoes. And the other guy is Mr. Orange.]

Four times a week.

[ Great, so a sociopath in immaculate shoes, Mr. Orange and a selective mute who doesn't touch people. This should work perfectly.

Mouse gives her a thumbs up and then shuffles his feet. Gives his broom a single sweep against the floor. ]

...thanks.

[She gives him an agreeable nod, and moves to open the hood of one of the cars.]

Call, if you need anything.

[ Mouse shuffles around to see what she's doing. Doesn't get in the way, just hovers at a distance. Observation was one way to learn, wasn't it? ]

Can I watch?

[She ponders this]

If you like.

[He can notice, if he likes, that despite wearing immaculate designer clothes, she doesn't seem at all phased with leaning over the engine.]

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