2012-09-27 Little Shop of Coincidence

"...and I don't need a computer to tell me about my throttle response time," Remy says, poking a finger in the direction of a Japanese boy in his late teens wearing a backwards cap and thick glasses. "It's wrong. Fix it, Short Round."
Only Remy LeBeau could find a Japanese auto shop in the middle of Chinatown. In Gotham City, no less.
The kid has a laptop computer balanced in one hand as he crouches down to study the inner workings of Remy's motorcycle. "You wrong," he retorts, glaring up at the Cajun. "I fix you, too? And I'm from Japan, dick. Short Round was Chinese."
It's Gotham City, so the number of auto shops that end up having to replace damage caused by bullets is likely higher than it should be. In the case of the black Jaguar that pulls in, that damage has been taken to a slightly more alarming amount. The front and rear windshields are torn to pieces and a few long scars mar the once presentable hood. If Remy didn't recognize the car, what it suffered or the west coast plates on it, he'd sure recognize the driver.
Domino rolls into an open car bay and kills the engine, giving the interior one more glancing over. This one's going to be hard to explain, which means that it's going to cost her. A lot. Still, this guy came with recommendations. She plucks another thirty caliber bullet casing out of the passenger footwell and tucks it into her palm, trying to cover up as much of the glaring evidence as she can. Not that it's going to make any difference. Time to have your wad of cash ready, girl.
Heavy, strappy combat boots step out to the concrete floor, connected to armored legs and what might be a couple of carefully hidden throwing knives tucked around those lower limbs. By the time the rest of the mercenary steps out she's got everything properly concealed by her coat once more. "Rush hour's a real bitch around here," she starts in as though that would cover everything done to her car. She's so caught up in thinking over how to handle this situation that she doesn't notice who else is in the shop with her until finally lifting her chin and glancing about. Seeing the Cajun there brings her to a sudden halt, nonchalantly flashing a toothy grin his way. "Hi..!"
"You're lucky you're so good at dis," Remy grumbles. He's lounging against a sawhorse with a cigarette dangling from his lip. Apparently, he's the type the likes to watch. "Just fix de damn bike."
"Okey-dokey, Dr. Jones," the kid replies without taking his eyes off his work. "You just lucky you can afford me. Now be quiet. I need to concentrate if I'm going to do--her." He almost drops his computer, but somehow manages to catch it before it hits the concrete floor. "Uh. Hi."
"Dibs," Remy mutters from the corner of his mouth. Then, smiling, he flicks his mostly spent cigarette into a corner and smiles back at Dom. "Hey. Don't mind him. He's retarded, but he's really good with cars. Fix you right up. Though that might take a lil' while. What de hell happened?"
Hard to top an introduction like that. Y'know..maybe this won't cost quiiite as much as she thought it would... Might take showing a little more sternum, but she's had to do far worse in her time. "Well, what -are- the odds," Domino replies with a knowing look about her. At least one person here understands what she's getting at, which is plenty good enough for her. Hands tuck into coat pockets as she draws closer, picking the most direct route. Time to make a presence, and a good first impression.
"Blue-light special. I've never seen such a frenzy of armed customers, almost lost my head back there." She'll come up with an excuse for anything. "Yeah, that seems to be the general concensus in the area. I hear you do good work," she says, this time looking at the mechanic. "Nothing too troublesome that can't be handled." Hint hint. "I can be patient. Been needing a backup ride, anyway. And it sure looks to me like -you,-" now looking back to Remy, "know a thing or two about bikes." The nearest trashbin becomes a target for that spent shell casing, casually flicking it into the bin as though it was nothing more substantial than a gum wrapper. "Hook a lady up sometime, would you?"
The kid makes a final adjustment to Remy's throttle linkage, checks his computer readout, and nods. "There. I break your bike for you. You happy? Good."
Rather than alarmed, he seems professionally curious about the car's condition. He pulls off his grimy glasses, wipes at the thick lenses, and slides them back into place. "Thanks. Dickhead is right. I can fix, but it take a while. A day or two. Only me here. And Jaguar cost much money, even for pretty lady with big... boots." He seems genuinely apologetic. "Unless you wait for parts. Maybe get from Dickhead. Then cheaper. That okay?"
For his part, Remy is stifling chuckles during the entire negotation period. He coughs and clears his throat. "Ahem. Yeah, I could help you lift de parts if you want to cut costs. I'm sure Short Round here can put us a list together."
"I'm Japanese, you shit!" the kid shouts from across the room. He's already putting the requested list together. Just in case.
Curious thing, how quickly the feeling of this peculiar relationship between Domino and Remy changes. She's gone from wanting to kill him to loathing him to somehow accepting him to this. Appreciating his company, and feeling her mood lift within his presence. Weird, weird thing, that. It doesn't seem to be connected to that gaze of his, either, which is a good thing. Much like the thief, she's looking fairly amused at the interaction between the two men.
Then there's negotiations. A day or two's not too bad, but she's only got one vehicle and at the rate she's had to jump all over from state to state she simply cannot afford to be left with nothing for long. "Always so stuffy in these garages," she offhandedly says to herself while lowering the zipper on her armor enough to properly tug the collar away from her throat. That it shows a V of pale skin beneath only adds to the effect. As well as one piece of jewelry beneath. "Well now, it seems like I'm next in line," she then remarks while glancing back to Remy's bike. All fixed, already? How fortunate! Another glance is passed back to the thief, looking ..a touch sly. "We could get those parts for you, but we'd need some way of carrying them back here, seeing as my car's out of commission. I don't suppose you'd have a solution for that?" Like a loaner vehicle, maybe a wrecker truck that isn't currently in use? She would return it in one piece, honest!
"Make a list for me and I'll see what I can do."
No, no magic eyes today. Remy is dressed down, with cognac-hued glasses covering his most visible feature. He's still laughing and shaking his head as Dom works her wiles on the young mechanic. And the necklace... that doesn't escape his notice, but he doesn't comment on it. He just smiles.
"Yeah, sure, you take my truck. Out back. Piece of shit burn more oil than gas, but she run." The kid is no match for Domino. He's already got his keys dangling from one finger. The only surprise here is that his ride is a junker. "Good, yes?"
Insert one broad black and white smile here and the deal is done just as soon as Domino takes those keys off of the mechanic's finger. "Very good." Hey, as long as it runs that's all she cares about! If she needs something fancy there's other strings she can pull at. "Soon as you can have that list ready for me I'll be on my way."
Yeah, so maybe it was using a sledgehammer when a ball peen would do but she just isn't feeling very patient these days. If it gets the job done then do it and get it over with so she can move on. Like right now, the repair business is taken care of so she can move on over to Remy. "Staying in trouble, are we?" He's welcome to think that she's following him around, though truth of the matter is she just plain got lucky bumping into him here.
"We're about to be," Remy replies, grinning rakishly. When the list is complete, he takes it from the kid and gives him a nod. "Hey. Seriously, thanks."
"Hey," the kid says, smiling for the first time. "Seriously, piss off. See you soon. And you? I see you a bunch, I hope." He waves to Dom and then heads toward her car to start cutting out the broken windshield.
"Lil' bastard," Remy grumbles affectionately. "Okay, mimi. Let's go be car thieves."
"That's what I like to hear," Domino answers with another broad grin, twirling the truck keys around her own finger before making them disappear within her palm.
To the mechanic, she says "I'm sure you will, kiddo." Especially if he can keep matters on the down low without costing her too much, then he would be seeing quite a lot more of her. She can be a tad rough on things, cars being no exception.
Or oil-burning shop trucks. "Most romantic thing I've heard all day."
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