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Slow day. It was strange not to have work in the garage. Really, that didn't mean anything because there was always paperwork to be done. A pile of it sat on an old wooden desk in the office connected to the side of the two bay garage. On top of that? A sign with an arrow drawn in fat sharpie pointing towards the garage itself, under it reading In here. Why bother with filing when she could work on her own car?
Boots stuck out from the hot hatch she was currently under, one foot bouncing to the beat of the loud stereo playing some early 80's rock. Joan Jett. Felt like that sort of day.
A little too loud though. Not for Emmett, just for anyone that might make an attempt at communicating with her. It was the reason for the other paper made sign stuck to the mirror of her car for anyone that came in. Yell. Yeah, that should do it.
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
"Really?"A hit-and-run. In a grocery store parking lot. Perhaps not as crazy as it seemed, but the young woman hadn't expected to find one of her headlights smashed in so that it looked like it had imploded. Talk about a surprise in the worst of ways.
With no number or license plate to go off, that left her with one option: fix it. There was an auto place in town she could probably go to. It was her best bet, unless she wanted to wait until she got home to take care of it. Not really what she'd want to do.
The garage itself didn't exactly seem all that busy when she pulled up. For a moment she worried it might even be closed, odd as that would've been. Yet it was long before Deb spotted the makeshift sign with a sharpie arrow. Even then she could follow the sound of the music. Joan Jett? Despite the downturn to her day, the corners of her lips quirked up in a smile. Especially when she followed the sign to find another one. Yell. Tempting. She very nearly did the first thing that came to mind. Yet remembering the state her car was in held the initial reaction at bay.
Once she found a pair of feet, she figured she'd found who she needed. "Excuse me?" Deb indeed yelled. "Got a bit of a car issue and was wondering if you could help."
She was getting a little too into the music, singing along and completely unaware of anyone approaching her. Admittedly it wasn't the best system, but it was only her in the garage, and she sure as hell wasn't going to work in silence. But a voice did manage to cut through the tune, and her feet were quick to press against the concrete floor and pull herself out from under the vehicle. Bleached hair was tied up into a bun, brunette roots coming through, and though she didn't wear a mechanic's jumpsuit, her jeans and t-shirt had enough grease to show her dedication.
Catching sight of bright hair and a pretty face immediately brought a soft grin to Emmett's lips. Dirty hands reached for a red rag as she stood, wiping them before she turned down the stereo. "You came to the right place then," Emmett replied. "Car issues are usually my thing." She figured that was obvious, given this was a garage and she was just caught working on a car.
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
If the figure standing up before her wasn't the very definition of a car mechanic, Deb might as well throw her dictionary out the window. Or curse it for not having pictures. Either way the soft grin the other woman was sporting made Deb's smile twitch. It felt far too easy for her to return the expression. So in the end she did. Especially when she basically got two separate greetings.
"Hi." She returned. "My problem has to do with some Joe Schmoe thinking they should redecorate my car using the back of theirs." Remembering did sour the expression on her face somewhat. That car was her baby. The memories she'd had with it were priceless. If not always technically legal. "One of the headlights is completely smashed in. Either the guy didn't hear or didn't care."
She had a feeling it fell into the latter category.
"It's parked just outside. Wanted to make sure someone was in before I tried anything." As luck would have it, it seemed like there was somebody. Deb figured at least.
The corners of her mouth quickly pulled downwards at the story given to her. Hit-and-runs sucked. She'd seen more of them come into her garage than she'd like, given that the owner almost always had to deal with it out of their own pocket. Emmett gave a sympathetic nod, her mouth drawing open to drop a small vowel of acknowledgement. "Ah."
She shoved the rag into her back pocket, stretching her shoulders as she did so. "That's shit," she offered, even if it really didn't help the conversation. So she started moving, walking over to the wall of the garage to press a button and open the empty bay door. As it opened, she caught a glimpse of the vehicle, and started towards it. "Well let's take a look first and see where we can go from here. I'm sure we can figure something out."
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
"That's one way of putting it, yeah." Had been the second word to cross her mind once she saw the damage, really.
Outside her car sat expectantly. It was an old Volkswagen Beetle that Deb had slaved months upon months away for. Which was probably why she so vehemently liked to keep it: countless summer and holiday savings had gone into purchasing it and fixing it up. Handouts weren't really a thing in her family. All the more reason she was peeved someone had damaged it.
The dark blue of its exterior didn't do much to hide the damage. From the looks of it someone had either drove into or backed up until they hit, and kept going for a bit. Deb might as well have thrown a bowling ball at her headlight. It likely would have done the same amount of damage. The sight renewed the ire in blue-grey eyes. But she wasn't one to take it out on those who didn't deserve it. "Penny for your thoughts?" She asked instead, glancing over at the fair haired mechanic.
A classic Beetle. Emmett's eyebrows shot up the moment she caught proper sight of it. She had an appreciation for cars, but even more so for older cars. Her own car was older than herself, but this was proper classic, and some bastard completely destroyed one of the rounded headlights. Now that was a sin. She squatted down, inspecting the damage with one hand wrapped around the top of the bumper.
"Looks like it was probably a truck that backed up with a tow ball hitch," she explained. "It's the right height and explains why nothing else was really damaged." Though that likely didn't help. This town was full of trucks - and jerks that drove them too.
"I'll have to order a replacement fixture. It's gonna take a couple days." The unfortunate truth about being a small business without too many spare parts hanging around, and she knew there'd be no way to get a replacement for a vintage Beetle in town. "I have a bulb that should fit. For now I can swap the bulb and put a little clear plastic over it. Won't be pretty, but it means you could drive it until the fixture comes in."
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
A truck. Of course. Why was she not surprised? Looks like the stereotype applied right now.
The fact it was going to take some time to get fully repaired didn't surprise Deb too much. One look and she'd known. Still, it wasn't fun to hear. With a small sigh she pat the side of her treasured bug sympathetically. Pointedly the undamaged side. "Guess it was too much to hope for an insta-fix, huh?" Wishful thinking frankly. "Ah well, I'm happy to hear it can be fixed at least. Even if it is eventually." With a somewhat rueful smile, she gave the Beetle one last pat. Then turned her attention back to the other woman.
"I'll definitely take the bulb if you're offering. Rather be mobile than pretty." The smile was coming a little easier now. A little one, but her mood was lifting. "Thanks, by the way. How much I owe you for everything?" Because make no mistake, there was going to be a fee. Deb knew it. Probably not a pretty one either.
"Not with a beauty like this." As much as Emmett would have loved to have vintage Volkswagen parts hanging around, she didn't. Insta-fix was probably impossible in the entire state. Emmett pressed her hands to her knees and stood up. "Don't worry about the bulb, since I just have one around here. And I'll get you a price for the fixture after we get this wrapped up."
She gestured into the open bay door, offering a warm smile to the little one that was starting to appear on the girl's features. "Wanna pull in and we'll get to work? Shouldn't be more than 15 minutes, if you can spare it."
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
Complimenting her car was a fast track to get on Deb's good side. Not that the other girl wasn't already on that path, to be frank. Either way it was definitely helping her mood. So it was with a wider smile that she nodded. "Sure can, long as you don't mind some curiosity. I've got more than a cat, apparently."
Whatever the response to that, Deb would pull out her keys and get in her car. It was still painful to see the damage- and likely would be until it was completely fixed -but at the very least she was reassured now. Starting up the engine, she carefully guided the car in until she was good. Then she hopped back out and took a few steps back. Let the mechanic do her job.
Although that wasn't about to stop her from asking questions.
To her credit, she gave the garage a curious look over first before settling her gaze back on the one working in it. Most of the time she just went to the Volkswagen dealership nearest her house for maintenance. But there was something about this place that made it...cozy. Not quite as painfully sterile. "Mind if I ask how you got into all this? Or should I just let the music play?" Honestly the music wasn't so bad, so she wouldn't complain much there.
"Yeah, I don't mind." Emmett was always up to answer any questions someone had on their vehicle - they deserved to know and be given an honest answer. The stereotypes of garages that just overcharge for unnecessary bullshit always bothered her, so she'd explain anything.
As the girl got into her car, Emmett made her way back into the garage, immediately grabbing a wheeled chair to put her at perfect height with the headlight, as well as a trash can for any remaining glass. Her foot still tapped to the beat of the music, but she didn't bother turning it back up now that she had company. Slipping gloves on, Emmett began carefully removing the glass away without paying attention to the state of her garage or the eyes that looked around it.
It was cozy. While it wasn't the most organized place, everything had a home, and a touch of personality colored the walls with posters of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Wonder Woman, as well as a LA Kings hockey jersey. This was an extension of her home, after all.
Though she didn't look up at the girl, a warm smile played about her lips at the question. "My first car was a '97 Toyota Paseo," she explained. "I thought it was the coolest thing, but it broke down a lot." She recalled the first time it had, right on the side of the highway. She was so pissed. "So I did everything I had to to keep it running, and I just really liked it."
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
Ninja Turtles, Wonder Woman, Kings- yeah this place was a far cry from the typical immaculate garages of the high-end companies. It actually had character. Color. A feeling other than the "pay us and get out" one she typically got. A nice change.
There was also someone to actually talk to. Definitely a nice bonus as well.
Her mouth formed a small 'o' as she listened along; standing since she wasn't a hundred percent sure if or where to sit. Throughout her gaze had started to drift again, but she was paying attention. The story sounded pretty similar to her own really. It made her snicker a bit. "Sounds familiar. Found a car, fell in love, bent over backwards to keep it running: y'know, the usual." This little bug was still her first, and would probably remain her current for as long as her stubbornness would allow.
"But that easy figuring out what you wanted to do, huh? Definitely seems like you've got a good thing going. This place all yours?" After all, she hadn't seen anybody else yet. So it was hard not to jump to some conclusions. "Lot less 'sterile hospital-esque' as some of the dealerships get. Actually feels like people work here rather than solely exist to sell me deals on tires and all things car."
Usually people didn't hang around too often, and Emmett was happy for the change. Though it meant she had completely forgotten to offer the bright haired girl a seat; now her focus was consumed by the vehicle itself, even if she was listening. "That's what happens when you find love." With cars. People? Nah. Transmissions spoke to her more clearly than any person could, but this one knew how to keep Emmett talking.
With the glass cleared, Emmett pushed the chair back to stand up, glancing over to her as she did so. "You know it." Though the title of owner was a year old by now, Emmett's chest puffed up with pride. She walked over to a cabinet, opening it to find it stuffed with small boxes. Bulbs were the one thing that were easy to keep in stock, and people came for somewhat regularly. Even so, she was lucky to have one that would fit a car like hers. "Yeah, gotta make it like home, you know? I mean, it is home. Got it all upstairs." Some might not enjoy the idea of living where you work, for Emmett it was the perfect situation. She caught sight of the bulb in question, jumping up to reach it with ease before she turned back to the girl and her bug. "So what do you do?"
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
Looks like assuming paid off this time. It made everything stand in a new like while she looked around again. This wasn't just a cozy garage now. It was a reflection of someone's personality. A lot like someone's hair, although more filled with grease and spare parts in a good way. She was grinning. "I like it." Deb decided then.
Fortunately for Deb, the idea of only needing to walk down a flight of steps for work was incredibly appealing. Early morning wake-ups were not her thing. Her snooze button had been used so much she was pretty sure there was a mark by now. And not needing to set a foot outside during winter? It sounded like a lazy heaven. "Lucky." She playfully accused with a lopsided smirk. What she wouldn't give for a similar set up.
"For me, I've still got to drive to work and school. I work as a hairstylist at the nearby hair salon while getting my degree. Although I honestly might just stick with the job regardless. Hair's always come easy for me- dyeing it especially." She chuckled at that and shook her head. Then turned blue-grey eyes towards the blonde with a gleam in them, playful and slightly knowing. She worked with hair- she could easily spot a bleached set. "So if you ever want to change up your hair or get a trim, I'd be happy to help."
Lucky was right, and Emmett's grin grew at the accusation. She had no shame in it, and when she caught sight of the wonky smirk offered to her, her gaze lingered for an extra moment. She wasn't sure what she'd pin this girl as, but when she said she worked at a hair salon, the blonde wasn't entirely surprised, given the bright nature of her hair. "I do need to get a touch up," Emmett explained, gesturing to her roots. She slipped a glove off, fingertips grazing just above her ear where her hair was buzzed short. "I usually do this bit myself 'cause it grows so fast, but it wouldn't hurt to have a professional take a look and probably fix it." It looked even enough, but having a knowing eye take a look was always a comfort.
"Oh, here." Emmett crossed over to her own vehicle, a little hatchback that was more powerful than it appeared. She opened the passenger side door. "Sorry, there isn't much extra seating here, but if you want." The mechanic gestured inside the Fiat.
