Chapter Text
One crank, two cranks.. a third..
Metal creaks before the tension gives way, snapping the support rods sending an errant bolt and spring right at you. Your arm shielding your face just in time as you loose a guttural groan of pure frustration. How are you supposed to fix this shit if the materials used to make it are made of even cheaper shit!
You toss your torque wrench onto the bench in a huff of defeat. Silently blaming the poor composition of raw materials used to make these parts. You wipe your face deciding you should take a well needed break to give yourself the time to solve the problem.
You were good at that, solving problems. Unsure if its just the challenge it presents, or the rewarding feeling of your idea actually working. But you were good at it nonetheless, one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. Your ingenuity and tenacity knew no bounds.
The small bell above your door rang in its jaunty dissonant tune as the old front door squealed open. Reminder: Oil the hinges.
“sorry, we’re closed for the night. come back tomorrow, we open at seven..” You call out, your back turned. Maybe if you use a lateral-
“unfortunately, i need it fixed tonight..”
That voice. That deep bassy voice.. Your body freezes as your mind screams. That damn voice.. Your lungs feel paralyzed, yet somehow you feel like you're drowning, suffocating just below the surface.
“please..”
The quiet resignation, the embarrassment loosely laced in the plea. Pride. Thats what it was, admitting defeat. A shame.
You swallow some oxygen down. Clearing your throat in nonchalance. You were good at that too, saving face.
“Moiras is five blocks east of here, she might charge a little more since shes closing soon, but she does a hell of a job..”
A quiet sigh cut through the tense silence “shes out of town..”
Your gut clenches, your fingers wrapping around a wrench. Your eyes stuck on the empty space where the wrench is supposed to go. Its near winter, of course moiras gone- she always leaves for a month to see hee daughter. think, think, think. “Ripleys then-” you cooly suggest “Down by the docks, he-”
“He about threw me out of the door the second i stepped inside..”
Annoyance? What had they done to get on ripleys bad side? Although its probably not hard, hes a temperamental man at best.
“Jax-”
“unavailable”
“Tinnors-”
“doors locked, lights off”
“Celia-”
“too busy”
Every answer more curt than the last, but not curt in the way of taking issue with the suggestion. But in the way of another avenue truly denied. You were the last option. And they werent thrilled about it either..
“Take it somewhere else..” A hint of bitterness crept into your tone. You hadnt mean to let it slip, but you both know this is the last resort.
“I need it fixed tonight..” They stress.
Courtesy went out the window. You both know youre putting on an act, why are you so worried about saving face? What were you trying to prove?
“No.” You firmly deny, putting your wrench down a little too hard.
“You think id do this to you if you werent my last option?!”
Anger, frustration, familiarity.
“Not my-”
“I will pay double- triple.. i dont give a fuck what you charge me..”
Desperation?.. That was- unexpected.. Playing their entire hand is not something they did lightly. The extra cash could help afford new proper support rods that wont snap.. Practicality was a blessing and a curse. Every fiber in your being screamed for refusal and pettiness.
But practicality was a blessing and a curse..
“Leave it on the counter and go..” You didnt have to turn to see what it was, you already knew. The hours youve spent tinkering on that mechanical monstrosity is what led you to pursue this career. What gave you this drive for problem solving.
The slight grunt before a large metal weight is set on the counter is the only wordless thanks you get. Before the sound of retreating steps, the damn squealing door, and the once jaunty tune of the small bell, rings more like a death toll through the empty shop..