Get To Someday • •

[faolan kensley calghain]

Faolan didn’t get any happier than when he was covered in oil and working on a bike. Cars might look shiny and sleek, but they didn’t interest him in the same way a Harley or a Ducati did. These days he probably spent more time with grease on his hands and grime on his skin, but that was how Faolan liked it. His mind was at peace when he was in the garage, tools in hand. Some people had yoga or meditation to clear their minds, but he had his work. Sometimes he stayed late just because his job was his brand of therapy. Not that he ever phrased it like that to people. No, no one really knew about his past. They saw a well built, gruff Irish American who had inherited his father’s accent along with his jawline and nose. He might have been born on the wrong side of Queens, but he was as Irish as the man he took after. It was both a good and a bad thing. Faolan had been cursed with more of his father’s bad qualities than he cared to admit, which was why in recent years he kept a fair distance from the man, save for the odd uncomfortable family dinner that he attended at his sister’s insistence.

They had never been a proper family. His parents had fought more than they loved, but his mother insisted that some relationships were that way for a reason. Faolan never understood it. He didn’t believe in such nonsense. Saoirse finding happiness at last was the only thing that gave him calm now. If she hadn’t then he thought that he might be doing a lot more than checking in with weekly calls and the odd coffee meet. He didn’t regret looking after his sister, regardless of the consequences he had paid for it. Keeping her safe had been worth it. She said it had changed him, but he had told her not to worry so much. He was fine, and he had still managed to salvage his career after his five-year stint in prison. It wasn’t like it was something he spoke about, or something people noticed when they looked at him. He didn’t have the trademarks of being inside, like gang tattoos or scars from being in fights. Faolan had been intimidating enough to be left alone mostly, and he had kept away from the troublemakers in there.

Now, he was content enough with the motorbikes that came in and came his way. Faolan checked everything was in place and then moved to his feet to see if the engine turned over nicely. When it roared to life, rumbling and growling like it ought to, he turned the key back and moved to fill out the rest of the paperwork to go with the job order. The paperwork was the boring part, but he did his job properly. Scribbling down what he had replaced, and ticking the boxes for the new parts, Faolan scrawled his untidy signature at the bottom of the sheet and threw the clipboard back onto the workbench along with the pen. Faolan got in his head a bit when he was working, so he often missed people saying their goodbyes at the end of the day. He didn’t know if anyone was still around, but he always checked just in case he needed to lock the place up. It was already late, the garage quieter than usual, but he’d tidy his tools up and make sure the place wasn’t a complete mess before he went home for the night. He didn’t have anyone waiting on him, so there was no rush to leave.

• • •

TAGGED! Cole Mika Vinters
WORDS! 615!
OUTFIT! Macho Mechanic!
LYRICS! Disaster Hearts - - - I Fight Dragons
NOTES! <3

[Cole Mika Vinters]

Cole loved being under the hood of a fast little hot rod just as much as she loved slipping into something short, tight and all too revealing. She was a complicated girl and she knew it but it never stopped her from going after what she wanted. Her parents might have helped her get to where she was in a way but they'd let her get there on her own. Make it or break it, it was all on her shoulders. So it was a damn good thing her business was booming and she didn't need to worry about having to return to California a failure; not that her parents would have considered her a failure. They would have just shrugged and said she'd put time and effort into something that wasn't what was on the cards. No big deal. Not to them. Of course, they'd both followed their dreams and made them work. Look at the pair of them now! A couple of Hollywood favourites.

She was under the hood of her own superiorly fixed up '69 Shelby GT500, the first car she'd bought herself when the business really started to boom. It had been left to fall to pieces which was a crime to Cole. A car that beautiful should be loved and coveted, two things Cole did. She fixed it up all by herself. Not much of the car was original anymore, it was a struggle to find parts that old but she wasn't out to impress any of the old guy in the business who would have torn her head off if she'd suggested the mods she'd done. The engine had been a bust and had been in need of a total overhaul, the interior was more mould than it was actual leather, which made Cole genuinely cry and the bottom was basically rust. She had been surprised that it had still been in one piece, and that her foot hadn't gone through it when she'd stepped into it to really check out the interior. But it was her baby, her pride and joy and meant more to her than the Maserati she owned; or any of the other high end vehicles she had to her name.

Cole sighed into the paperwork on her desk. It was the downside to owning and running a business. She hated it and decided right then and there that she would look into hiring someone to do it for her. It would definitely be at the top of her list for the morning. Right now, she was too irritated with the numbers to get any of it done and needed to get her head under a hood and figure that out. Standing up, Cole stretched out her stiff muscles before heading over to the smaller bay she kept for the jobs she took on herself. She had a full staff that could do everything from fix the minor aches and pains of a classic car to full repairs, replacements, painting and total custom interiors but there were just some things a girl had to do herself. And when her eyes landed on a car that called to her, she just had to get her hands on it. Cole docked her phone into the station and turned the volume up. She wore clothes she didn't mind getting dirty but that morning she'd thrown on a pair of shorts and a vest top and there was no way in hell she was crawling under a car with so little protection on so she pulled on a grease suit, put her hair up in a messy tail and lifted the hood of the '73 Charger.

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || faolan kensley calghain
Words || 612
Clothes || Coming Soon…
Music || Roll Your Window Down -Scotty McCreary
Notes || <3

[faolan kensley calghain]

Faolan had a habit of keeping to himself. It was something he had developed during his prison time. It had been a way to keep out of trouble, both with the inmates and the prison officers, who would point at anyone who was so much as in the vicinity of a problem. It didn’t always work out perfectly, but it kept the gruff Irish kid mostly out of being known and eyeballed all the time. He could look scary, and he was in for taking down an NYPD officer; people didn’t need to know the exact details of Faolan’s crime to know that he was worth keeping away from, or keeping on the good side of. In truth, he had just wanted to serve his time and get back out into the world. Already he knew it was going to be a different life for him on the outside, but Faolan was willing to accept that so long as his sister was safe and well. That was all it boiled down to. He would have hauled bricks, or done whatever manual job came his way once his five years were up. It was just luck turning in his favour that meant he got a chance to work on bikes and actually dedicate his time to something he enjoyed. Not too many people would take a chance on a man with a record.

There was a hell of a lot more to Faolan than his past though. That was what he was out to prove. He was a hard worker, a man who committed himself to a good job, to looking after his sister even though she was doing good these days, and to looking after himself. He wasn’t some bum who planned to see the inside of a prison cell again, but at the same time he didn’t regret his actions all those years ago. Faolan wasn’t perfect, and he would be the first to hold his hands up and exclaim that he was far from saintly. He had more sins in his basket than he cared to count, but again, they had been collected for what he deemed the right reasons. He was a bad man with a good heart, as his mother had once said. He wouldn’t go so far to paint himself as bad though. He simply understood that the world was varying shades of grey, and nothing was ever as simple as people – or the law – wanted it to be.

He rubbed his aching neck with a grease covered hand and then rolled his shoulders. What Faolan needed was a good session at the gym that punished his body so he could go home and pass out after the hottest of showers. He was thinking about that as he began collecting up his tools. What snapped him out of his thoughts was the sound of music coming from across the garage. No one he worked with listened to music he liked, so he couldn’t help but pull a face. Then again, Faolan had a very slim window of taste when it came to music, and it consisted of five very heavy rock bands rarely anyone had heard of, and then one Irish singer who his granddad had raised him on. Unknowingly smearing oil on his face as his rubbed rough fingers over his overgrown scruff, Faolan wandered over to where Cole was working, smirking when he realised it would have to be here still here after everyone else had left. “You know the others have a theory you sleep in one of the pits, like a vampire in a crypt, right?” He teased, folding his arms across his broad chest.

• • •

TAGGED! Cole Mika Vinters
WORDS! 616!
OUTFIT! Macho Mechanic!
LYRICS! Disaster Hearts - - - I Fight Dragons
NOTES! <3

[Cole Mika Vinters]

Cole knew she'd shocked her parents when she told them the spotlight wasn't where she wanted to live her life. She was an extrovert but she liked to call the shots and that just couldn't happen with the life the rest of her family led. She'd always been the odd one out anyway. Cole had enjoyed it when she'd been younger, playing dress up and pretend but as she got older, she realised it was all a precarious tower of lies and one truth could bring the whole thing down. At least she had been one of the lucky ones, she'd made it out the other side of the industry unscathed. She took her earnings and went to school, learning every single trick of the trade before opening up her garage. Cole knew it would be hard and it would probably take a while to see her investment really start to flourish but she was willing to take that chance, risk it all. If it failed, well then she would just chalk it up to a learning experience and get herself a job at another garage. Thank god it worked out for her. She didn't like taking orders, much preferred handing them out but she would have bit her tongue, nodded her head and done it her way anyway.

"I prefer hanging from the rafters like a bat." She said pulling herself out from under the hood of the car she'd been nursing back to health. She didn't bother mentioning that she'd been genuinely thinking about splitting up her office space a bit more to accommodate another, smaller room just big enough for a bed and a hutch for spare clothes. She spent an insane amount of time at the shop and didn't always feel like she was in the right mind to drive home; which was how her cars ended up taking up more space than they should in the shop lot. "Less grease up there." She joked with a grin. She'd heard all sorts from her guys and the tales they tried to weave about her whenever she brought in someone new. Hell, she got a kick out of it so she wasn't about to stop them.

She liked that she had enough people under her employ that she could spend the time on her special projects. She didn't need to worry about a lot of the general paperwork, her employees knew what to do with their forms, she didn't need to worry about the work getting done, they were incredible and she had the best floor manager to kick them back into place when they wander. Cole knew she had a damn good setup and didn't take a second for granted because without them all doing their parts, she couldn't do these projects in the first place. As it was she was pretty bad, flitting from one thing to another throughout the day. One minute she could be under the frame of a job, in her office looking over the books the next and in a few after that, she was under the hood of another vehicle under their care. Cole could not do the same thing for hours on end, she was lucky if she could manage twenty minutes at a time on any given project. It was also a miracle she managed to get anything done; unless she was in the middle of one of her little projects. Those things chewed up her hours and before she knew it, four, five, often times six hours were lost to her.

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || faolan kensley calghain
Words || 594
Clothes || Maybe Some Day...
Music || Roll Your Window Down -Scotty McCreary
Notes || <3

[faolan kensley calghain]

Faolan knew that it was hard for many people to see beyond the ‘convict’ flag that came up on all of his background checks. He still lived close to his old neighbourhood, liked his old haunts just as much as when he had been a free man, too. People knew his story. They told their sisters or cousins not to get too close; he might bite like an animal at the zoo. Faolan knew his actions had earned him a reputation he wouldn’t be able to easily shake off, but the people who whispered behind his back never knew the full story. They were always missing those key bits of information that took him hardened criminal to protective big brother. He wasn’t going to correct them though. He could live with them, but he wasn’t going to make Saoirse relive her own painful past for his sake. She was happy now, living the life she had dreamt of and Faolan was definitely not going to be the one to rock the boat. Besides, it wasn’t like he was suffering. He had a roof over his head and a job he enjoyed well enough.

Faolan thought about it for a moment, but then gave a solid shake of his head. “Not with the way you come out of the shadows and scare the shit out of that last apprentice that was here. Whatsisname.” He never claimed to be the most sociable of guys, or the friendliest person around. He had done his bit with the young kid, but there was no real passion in him for bikes, so Faolan had sent him back over to the other guys once he had covered his basics. Beyond that, Faolan didn’t speak too much to him unless there was some group banter happening in the garage. Honestly, he thought someone had put the fear of the devil into the recent high school graduate about the gruff Irish-New Yorker. The kid would rarely stay long in the break room once Faolan came in. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but Faolan didn’t believe in those things. He also didn’t worry about if he was the ‘ghost of the garage’, or the boogeyman to scare away the newbies who donned the overalls and had their baptism in grease and oil. There were worse monsters out there in the world.

Faolan fiddled with the dirty rag he kept in his pocket. It came in handy for a quick wipe down when his signature was needed on a delivery, or someone had come in to book in for a service or to have a part changed. Not everyone – if anyone at all – wanted to leave with hands as black as his ended up on a busy day. The rag was close to being useless now, but Faolan typically waited until it smeared more grease onto him than it took off to replace them. “I was just seeing if anything needed doing before I got off for the night. Anything come to mind, boss?” He tossed the rag from hand to hand as he spoke, raising a questioning eyebrow as he waited for Cole to reply. Asking was a sure faster way of checking things off his list than taking a slow walk around the garage.

• • •

TAGGED! Cole Mika Vinters
WORDS! 551!
LYRICS! Disaster Hearts - - - I Fight Dragons
NOTES! <3

[Cole Mika Vinters]

There had been a lot of people who had tried to dissuade Cole from hiring Faolan but she had ignored them all. People were more than their mistakes, she was more than her parents, more than her own name. She was more than just a pretty face so she expected layers from other people as well. Faolan had come along at a time when Cole had needed someone who knew motorcycles better than anything else. She had a couple guys at that point who could get the job done but not to the level Cole demanded of work coming from her shop. She got down and dirty in the engine grease, too so she wasn't just legs in a skirt telling them what to do. She did everything she asked them to do and did it in a skirt or heels because she's a badass. She had never lied to Faolan about it either. After he had proven to her that he could do the work and at the level, she expected from him, she had sat down with him and laid it out. She knew people would be looking down on him for what they perceived as wrong-doings but she saw beyond them and that was what had mattered to Cole at the end of the day.

"Hunter is what he prefers. His name is Franklin, use that however you'd like." She offered, knowing exactly which of the guys he was talking about. It was Cole's job to know everything going on in her shop and on her property. She knew what stories were told to have him be that intimidated by her motorcycle man and she knew exactly who had said what to make the man shy away. If he hadn't gone back to cars, she would have put him back there himself simply because she didn't do drama in her personal life and she would be damned if a bunch of grown ass men would cause any in her business. She didn't fire people, she gave them the worst jobs when they came in for their next shifts, making sure they damn well knew they'd crossed a line with her. She didn't have many of them but there were a couple and they were hard lines, never to be crossed otherwise hell rained down upon the person who'd crossed it and she never apologised for it.

"Actually yes! Who's your favourite boss?" Cole asked grinning, practically bouncing on the tips of her toes. When she'd gotten the call for the work, Cole had acted very professional; until she ended the call. It took only the time to stand up from her chair to squeal like the girl she was. It had been Faolan's day off so she hadn't been able to tell him about it and she only remembered now because her phone lit up with the reminder that the bike would be in first thing in the morning. "I've got a work order for you… Ducati." She said in a sing-song voice. She might have loved all vehicles whether they had two wheels or more but Faolan loved the one with two so much more than anything else. When she could, Cole liked to bring in business for him. He was the only guy in the garage who worked specifically on the motorcycles. A couple of her other guys could figure it out but Faolan actually knew what he was doing and loved every little thing about it. Ducati alone would get Faolan excited. Cole imagined telling him the make and model would throw the man into a frenzy, unable to wait until the morning when he could get his hands on the new toy. It was coming in to be fixed up for a potential sale. Cole had offered to do the work up, see what all needed to be done and maybe she would be walking away with a rare motorcycle to add to her collection of big girl toys. Tomorrow she would know for sure.

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || faolan kensley calghain
Words || 672
Music || Roll Your Window Down -Scotty McCreary
Notes || <3

[faolan kensley calghain]

Faolan couldn’t give a rat’s ass about how people perceived him. He knew his reputation painted a picture far from that of a masterpiece. Let the world see him how they wanted to. He knew what he had done and there wasn’t a single thing he would change about it. The only issue he had with his fate was how it spread to the people around him. It was almost infectious, poisoning the people who dared to get too close to him. Saoirse had missed out on job opportunities because of his conviction. Why a brother’s infractions had to suggest the character of his sister was lost on Faolan. All he knew was that it was pretty wrong of a company to assume that all the blood must be bad, that all Calghains must have a desire to break the law. He tried his best not to be bitter about it, but there were times when it really stung. He expected his own life to hit setbacks and struggles because of his choices, but he had never thought that the people around him might suffer; especially not when he was on the outside, holding down a steady job and proving that he could actually be a law abiding citizen.

He shrugged upon hearing the kid’s name. Faolan would likely forget it by the next time he actually needed it. “Weasel seems mort suitable.” He didn’t know if Hunter was a middle name, a nickname, or just something he aspired to be. He didn’t particularly care too much either. Faolan tried not to be, but he was always wary of the younger people in his life. They were the ones who were unsettled, prone to experimenting with the fine line between good and bad. He didn’t need them deciding to have a wild night in the city and then throwing his name under the bus when the blue lights of the police came knocking. It might have seemed a little rude to think so jadedly of them, but he had heard stories when he was inside. He wouldn’t be the one to determine whether they were true or not, but he knew he didn’t want to be one of the guys in that situation – desperate excuses or otherwise.

Faolan merely arched a tired eyebrow at Cole when she grinned before him. He was never entirely sure how workplace banter worked since his release. It really was true what freed prisoners said about the world feeling foreign and strange to them after incarceration. Hearing the vague, but enough for now, details, he nodded. Ducati’s were certainly something he enjoyed playing with, just to see the work that was hidden behind the sleek exterior. He didn’t get to work on one as often as he would have liked, but then if they were so commonly found coming his way then he might lose some of his appreciation for the bike. “Nice. What’s the deal with it?” He asked, his curiosity piqued as he leaned back against the counter edge.

• • •

TAGGED! Cole Mika Vinters
WORDS! 510!
LYRICS! Disaster Hearts - - - I Fight Dragons
NOTES! <3

[Cole Mika Vinters]

Cole knew she turned heads whenever she went anywhere related to cars. She wasn't a typical mechanic or even a car aficionado. She wasn't a man and it pissed her off when people looked down on her because she was a woman. She knew more about cars than half the men she spoke to and would put money on it each and every time. The same thing could be said for the programming work she did part-time. Her IT job was hardly something she actually had to go out to thanks to having all the programming on her personal laptop and the entire building having access to her phone number in case of emergencies. They saw a petite, blonde Swedish girl and thought she was too young or too blonde to be technical support; she must be there to visit a parent or other family member. When she whipped out the computer skills, fixed the problem and walked away in under five minutes, she was less frustrated than when she walked up and clocked the look on the guy's face. And that same guy was requiring help getting his jaw off the floor. Cole couldn't figure out why people automatically assumed that because she was a girl she couldn't do anything at all but she really did love proving them wrong.

Her name was gaining more notoriety, more substances in her chosen field and there was nothing wrong with that. In fact, it was what she had been after. Cole wanted her name to become synonymous with classic cars and skilled workmanship. She handpicked the mechanics that worked in her garage. They were the best of the best and if they did sub-par work, she informed them they had one last chance and in the meantime, they'd best look for alternative work. She did not want poor cars being driven out of her shop. As it was, she didn't actually have to say those words to anyone; her mechanics generally knew who was doing shitty work and either tried to show them the proper way to do it or made sure they know they would not last long at all in the shop if they continued. Of the six people who had left her shop since it opened, they'd all done so on their own, four because they weren't good enough and two because they were leaving the state altogether and that sort of commute wasn't going to happen.

Faolan had been a good addition to the team. He knew his way around a car well enough to get the jobs done to her standards but his niche was the motorcycles and Cole had wanted someone with his skills. He was young, had a bad moment or two in his lifetime but Cole believed people were more than their circumstances and she was always going to believe in giving people second chances. "Oh, silly, silly boy." She said with a disappointed shake of her head. "That's what I keep you around for. It'll be here before you tomorrow. You can let me know if it's worth its weight or not." She said, knowing he'd understand that she meant to put in an offer on the motorcycle if it was actually worth it. She had no idea what sort of shape it was in or what the current owner would consider a good asking price to take it off their hands. The next afternoon, Cole expected to have an answer to those questions. "I will throw you a bone though and give you its year." She said with a dramatic pause even though it was late and Faolan didn't seem to want to play the little game. "Fifty-nine."

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || faolan kensley calghain
Words || 617
Music || Roll Your Window Down -Scotty McCreary
Notes || <3

[faolan kensley calghain]

Faolan hated how the world – and the internet – was filled with so-called inspirational quotes and news feeds that preached clichés and empty promises for a better tomorrow. He didn’t need to see a sunset photo that told him honesty was the cure to some dark moment. He already had to bite his tongue when his sister posted them once in a blue moon. Faolan knew that some of those mantras helped her, but for him he wasn’t about to commit his time to morning meditation and talking to his reflection before he started the day. He didn’t need them. He didn’t regret his choices – even the bad ones. He had done what was right in the moment, despite the fact that the court of law would disagree.

Prison had changed him, but Faolan didn’t think it was for the worst. He hadn’t fallen in with a badly tattooed gang. He hadn’t found ways to smuggle drugs in and get high like some of the meatheads in there. He wasn’t born again behind bars either. Faolan had simply survived. On his block he kept the peace most of the time, preventing some of the long-timers who thought they were gangsters and real tough guys from picking on the weaker guys there. He didn’t have to do much. Faolan was six-three and had the physique of an athlete. People could see him in the gym yard lifting weights and keeping in shape. He had a workout in his cell, too for the days when they didn’t get outside or the prison was put on lockdown. Now, with a semi-permanent glower, he probably looked more like a convict than he had when he had been inside. Working out was the only routine he had to keep him sane for those five years, and now it seemed like the only bridge between who he was then and who he was now. So every day started with a workout and a hot shower – something he didn’t take for granted anymore.

Twisting the worn rag in his hands, he began to scrub at his fingers. He wouldn’t have clean palms until a long shower when he got home, but he just wanted to be able to touch things without smearing grease all over it. His brow furrowed and he flicked his gaze across to stare at Cole. “A 200 Elite?” He asked, the vintage bike quickly racing to the front of his mind. Faolan hadn’t ever worked on one, but he’d been given the chance to look at one when a friend dragged him to a motor auction shortly before he had found himself in trouble with the boys in blue. “Not the prettiest girl out there, but I guess it’s a good age to retire her at.” He pushed himself from the counter with his hips and scratched the bridge of his nose. “I know an Elite sold for a little shy of $10k at auction. That one had already been restored.” He would know more when he had it in his corner of the garage, but he figured Cole might like to know something if he already knew a little. He couldn’t say what the current owner would think, but he had a vague memory returning of what that auctioneer had spoke about when it was up for bidding on. “It’s going to depend on what the girl needs.” He understood that Cole already knew that – it wasn’t the first time he had said it when asked for a quote – but he felt it was only right to acknowledge it now in case he was left waiting on part quotes or had to replace something discontinued with something not quite the same.

• • •

TAGGED! Cole Mika Vinters
WORDS! 626!
LYRICS! Disaster Hearts - - - I Fight Dragons
NOTES! <3

[Cole Mika Vinters]

"You don't buy a 200 because they look pretty. You buy one for the history of it. But like I said, I have no idea what state it's in. It was a barn find." She pointed out with a roll of her blue eyes. Cole's collection of vehicles ranged from rare and expensive to a dime a dozen. It all depended on the significance behind it for her. If she had fond memories attached to a car and it was strong enough, one eventually found its way into her collection. She had the resources to keep them so she indulged that particular obsession frequently and she had her father to thank for it. While she'd had fun on film sets with her parents and siblings, the limelight wasn't where Cole wanted to be. She wanted to make a name for herself outside of the glamourous world she'd grown up in but that really wasn't an option for her. Her family was proud and talked about her a lot, so there was a lot of crossover work. Either way, Cole would be grateful that her dreams were a reality.

Cole had been trying to make more of a name for herself away from the limelight but at least half of the clients that came in made a point of saying they heard of her through one of her family members or friends she'd made during her fifteen minutes of fame. The other half, at least, had heard of her garage from auctions and the handful of pictures in various magazines. She'd gotten those articles because of her time in Hollywood, so she was aware she would never get away from it but she hoped that one day, people wouldn't just be showing up because of her she's related to and instead because the work spoke for itself. It was going to take a lot of time and a ton of effort but Cole was more than willing to put the time in. She'd gotten this far, she wanted to go all the way and have a legacy that wasn't her fifteen minutes of Hollyweird fame. Cole had always been a different breed to the rest of her family. They all enjoyed being in the spotlight and having all eyes on them. She much preferred what was going on behind the scenes and learning from the crew.

The blonde Swede could have talked about cars and argued any point she had but her stomach chose that moment to remind her that she hadn't eaten in a while. How long exactly was anyone's guess but it had been a good few hours at least? "How does dinner sound? I'm starving." She asked, with a chuckle. It would take her a matter of minutes to wash her hands and change out of the overalls she'd chucked on to work on the car. Cole wasn't against getting whatever she had on dirty, she usually kept extra clothes in her office just in case. She hopped onto a job with someone so often that she didn't even think about it until they'd figured out the issues and by then she was covered in grease and grime. Then there were the times when she remembered to put that extra layer on before crawling around on the shop floor.

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || faolan kensley calghain
Words || 551
Music || Roll Your Window Down -Scotty McCreary
Notes || <3

[faolan kensley calghain]

Faolan knew bikes not just because they were his job, but because he had a brain for them. Everyone had their talents, some ability that made a niche little skill easier to understand. For him it was engines, but cars bored him; too many fixes could be done with any old part. He liked the effort, the scouring around to find something that was just right and lost in a scrapyard somewhere. There was a delicacy in bikes that he felt cars skipped over. That wasn’t to say that he wouldn’t feel a spark when a pretty car found its way into the garage; he was just more likely to get excited by a bike some of the guys there knew little about. “Could be an expensive fix up – just letting you know.” He didn’t have even a rough estimate to throw at her just in case the bike was a wreck, but he knew enough to be certain that replacement parts would either be a lucky find or cost a pretty penny. If too much of it needed replacing, then it might cost more to fix up than it would make at sale. Cole probably knew that already, but if Faolan didn’t talk the job then he would be even quieter than people thought him to be.

He kept to himself mostly, which was pretty easy when he was the guy who worked on bikes. He didn’t need a team around him, or others polishing the leather interior since there wasn’t one. He preferred to work alone, to see the job done by his own hands; that way, if there was a problem then he was certain to know where to start looking for a possible fault. He didn’t care for the credit, or the sales, he just wanted to do a good job, to keep his nose clean as best as he could. Faolan wasn’t the type to swear he’d never be in trouble again, because he was someone who believed in doing the right thing, even if the right thing was fighting the people who were supposed to be the good guys. Faolan would always defend those he cared for, loved, and he would do it without doubts or regrets. It was simply who he was, and that meant he was likely to toe a line most civilised people tried to avoid.

Faolan didn’t want to be a burden either. The whole point in working was to prove that he could support himself. He wasn’t some former felon who had halfway houses and government checks, stumbling around like the world was different and he was lost. He shrugged at Cole. He was hungry, but he didn’t want her going out of her way just because it was late and people tried their best to be polite every once in a while. “I got leftover pizza at home. Don’t worry about me.” It was probably a day past being good, but he’d make a grilled cheese, or order something else in when he finally made it back to his apartment and cleaned himself up. Faolan was a little too comfortable in his own company these days, and there were times when it definitely showed.

• • •

TAGGED! Cole Mika Vinters
WORDS! 540!
LYRICS! Disaster Hearts - - - I Fight Dragons
NOTES! <3

[Cole Mika Vinters]

Cole had grown her business quickly but well. Her name meant something in the car world and she was very proud of that. People knew her team did good work and she was so proud of the men, and few women, in her employ. She honestly wished there were more women interested because the testosterone was enough to kill sometimes but she was used to working in a man's world so it didn't bother her nearly as much as it occasionally did the office staff. She tried her best but there were just things out of her control and she was aware of it. She smiled, offered extra treats to the office staff and told the group in the bays to knock it off and behave every once in a while. It wasn't much but it seemed to calm the waters whenever they were starting to get choppy again.

Ultimately, they were all a great group of people and Cole felt very lucky to have each of them. Some hopped on the train quickly and happily, doing their jobs and joking around while others took a bit of convincing to join in on the fun. She didn't mind putting in the work if she thought the person she was courting for a job on her team deserved it and was worth it. She fought for a couple of the guys in her bays because she knew they were worth the effort. At least one of them might have taken some convincing that it was a legit business but they'd proven her right around every single corner. It helped that she treated them well and they could approach her about almost anything at all and she would try to help the best she could. Her parents had worried about her, of course, they did but she always just smiled and promised she was doing alright. Her parents believed in her and wanted her to follow her dreams but they would always worry about their little girl and she knew it.

"This is why I pay you a ridiculous amount of money, Dear." She said with an overly cheesy grin. She knew it was going to either take a lot of money or a lot of work to get it in her collection. It all depended on whether or not she fell for it when she saw it in the shop. "I know it's going to take either custom parts or aftermarket stock. They don't make parts like that anymore. And, even if they did, that would be too much money to put out for a little joyrider." She said seriously. But the thought of having one of the few Elite's left in the world in her possession was worth throwing the idea, and the numbers, around. And she could do that better if she wasn't thinking with her stomach. She was hungry and making any real decisions when she was hungry was never a good idea. She did it a few times and thankfully it didn't lead to anything expensive but it did lead to a weird paint order that didn't go with the car she'd intended to paint. Having it in the shop did come in handy but she hadn't known that when she ordered it. "Leftover pizza is not good unless you ordered it yesterday and had it for breakfast this morning. Come on, you pick." She offered, hoping that Faolan had figured out by now that she was not taking no for an answer.

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || faolan kensley calghain
Words || 586
Music || Roll Your Window Down -Scotty McCreary
Notes || <3