Jan 30 04:29:29 106 PA
From Chronicles
The large garage has a small corner desk, with pieces of paper and catalogues of machine pieces on shelves against the wall. Along three od the walls, huge metal shelving units hold a variety of brown boxes, each marked with some arcane mechanics scrawl that indicates the contents. The other has a long workstation against it, and a series of hooks and shelves, upon which tools sit, in apparently random order. The workstation itself bears the weight of half a dozen dismantled machines of varying sizes. The floor is concrete, stained with oil, with patches of sand here and there. A large tub containing sand squats beside the garage doors, a shovel sticking out of the top as if someone shoved it there after use.
A row of pegs against the wall by the workstation has various coveralls, coats and other things hanging on it and a large noticeboard has a range of oil stained pieces of papers stuck to it with pins. Along the beam that runs the length of the garage, several jars have been attached with a nail through their lid. They seem to be storing small components of different sizes.
A door exits the garage, apparently allowing entrance to the upper floor by the use of a key pad.
A typical cold, wintery morning finds no purchase inside the garage. In here the occupants can be warm, though one might have to deal with the faint smell of machine oil and ozone. While Caliopa works on some device or other, absorbed into the task, a young man seems to be reading a book nearby, his expression one of genuine amusement.
It has been going on all night, with Caliopa only pausing when he nudges her into eating or drinking. At this moment, her hands are still, her face blank as her mind nudges around the piece of machine she works upon. This seems to be a pressure valve or sorts. Dressed in her coveralls, her hair loose for once, her face is covered in small smudges of weapon oil.
The door opens as a somewhat bundled man steps into the garage, then turns to slowly shut the door. He then lowers the hood, and it seems Renos is still alive. His eyes still have those bags under his eyes and the bruises are started to look like they belong there. He then blearily looks around for a moment, blank eyes staring around the garage. His feet start to shuffle toward the spare parts pile.
Alistair looks to the door when it opens, that having drawn his attention away from the book - and Caliopa. He stands up and makes his way towards the man. "Good morning Sir, is there something I might help you with?"
Caliopa, oblivious to both men at that moment, but her hands begin to move slowly, making tiny adjustments to the pressure valve. She is unaware of the spoken words, and also to the strands of hair that fall across her face. Her forehead wrinkles, as she reaches out for a tiny tool, utterly unaware.
his eyes turn twoards the voice and then there is a bit of a deep frown on his face. He then stares hard at Alistair. "No, quite fine." He says in a somewhat flat and toneless voice. When he reaches the pile, he begins to search the parts for something. Picking parts up at almost random, checking it, and then putting it aside.
"Excuse me" says Alistair, coming closer still - next to the man in fact. He doesn't appear threatening, though, and he's got a smile on his face. "Those are not yours Sir - please don't touch those" he requests, still holding the book in one hand, one finger acting as a bookmark.
Caliopa makes a tiny noise of frustration, and puts the tool down, going still as her eyes close, her face full of concentration, her forehead wrinkling slightly. She sits quietly, her fingers touching the piece lightly.
There is still the blank look on his face, like Renos either doesn't see, comprehend, or something when the man speaks to him. The only acknowledgement the guy receives is that his eyes focus on the man, and his words. "What do you care if I am here to rob the place? Now, back off and leave me alone. Unless...you want to try and stop me?"
Alistair stares back at the man and tilts his head a little. "Of course I care" he replies, without offering an explanation, but his demeanor remains pleasant. "I would hope you would stop yourself, it is only polite. Just as it is only polite for me to ask. I'll thus ignore your challenge this time Sir." But he did note one was made.
Finally, Caliopa sits back, shaking her head, the slow blinks showing the confusion as she comes back to the right time and space. She stretches, wincing visibly as her back protests the position she has been in for some time. "Al?" She questions, turning around, her face puzzled. "Oh alright. Ain't seen you in a bit." She glances between the two men, oblivious to most undercurrents but this one is a raging overcurrent.
"And how do you know whats polite and what isn't? Perhaps it is not only polite, but arranged as well?" renos continues to stare at the man. "But I don't much care, don't go sticking your nose into other's people's business." He then looks at Cali as she speaks, his eyes and voice flat. "If this is how things are, I won't be back." He then turns and begins to walk out.
"It would not hurt to say one has an arrangement then" says Alistair, his brows hiking up a touch. He straightens his back to look down on the man - if there is a bit of an aristocratic streak in him, this is it - if he has something else to say he holds his tongue. Perhaps just as well, because then Cali speaks and he looks over to her with a smile. "Oh" and then back to Renos. "Have a nice day. Be careful in the cold."
Caliopa glances between the two, her wrinkled forehead turning into a small frown of concern. "Alistair, this is Robert Renos." She comments quietly, doing nothing to prevent Renos from leaving, leaning back against the bench. She nods towards Alistair, continuing softly, "Renos, this is Alistair. He is my ..." She hesitates, a stain of pink on her cheeks, "Boyfriend." She leaves it at that, waiting to see what happens.
Renos's eyes just stare at the woman. "Well, congrats for you. It explains the belligerent attitude and challenging tone. Just keep him out of my hair, unless he wants to be shot." He then starts for the door, shuffling along with his back slightly hunched and his words more mumbles than coherent thoughts.
"Oh ... nice to m-" Alistair starts, then blushes at Caliopa's introduction. He looks back at her, smiles, then he looks back to Renos, his brows hiking up. "Perhaps the Militia should not be employing an unsightly, homicidal man. I hear they have a code of conduct, and a complaint department. I am however certain that an apology might rectify a lot of poor behaviour" he's not smiling quite as brightly as he was; his tone remains reasonably pleasant at this time.
Caliopa's cheeks flare in a flush of temper, her eyes widening. She rises from the stool, resting her hands on her hips. "Renos. This is my garage, 'n' my stuff. Reckon if you plan to be threatenin' folks, you'd best not do it here or you won't be welcome no more." She folds her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes at his back. "Reckon if that ain't clear enough, I can make it clearer. Last we met, you said stuff that real hurt me, 'n' you got no rights to be actin' like Al ain't got a place here." The red haired temper shows.
"So you are taking back your offer? So be it." Renos then states flatly. He then glances to Alistair. "Heh, funny. Haven't been in the militia in years, and they employ much worse than me." He then smiles ever so slightly. He then glances back to Cali. "Fine, I am not welcome anymore. And I don't have have a friend anymore. Excuse me." He then reaches the door and opens it.
Alistair looks back to Caliopa with some surprise, staring at her for a few moments before looking back at Renos - this time with a frown. "They've better manners on average and less self-pity" he replies, "Heal thyself before attempting to guilt trip people into undeserved kindness. Good bye."
"Last time we spoke, you were leavin' 'n' you said things that made it right clear I weren't your friend, Robert. Told me you'd not be over. Figured that ended our arrangement well enough." Caliopa's face is set in an expression few have seen before, a hardness in her eyes. She turns away from the leaving man, her back straight. The phrasing could have been clearer.
Alistair walks behind Renos to the door, and makes certain it's closed after the man leaves. No need to let the cold in. He then turns around, and makes his way to Caliopa, his hands going to the small of her back to rub. He is concerned, that couldn't have felt good. "Are you alright?" he asks softly.
Caliopa's temper still shows in the flush in her cheeks, and her glittering brown eyes. Her lips are tight, and her chin is lifted. "I'm fine." Clearly a bad lie and she turns around to face him, lifting her eyes to his face. "I'm real sorry he was rude to you. Ain't got any right, talkin' like that in my place."
"It isn't your fault, no need to apologize. He hurt you and he deserved what he got" says Alistair, looking back in her eyes. His hands settle on her waist when she turns around. "I don't know what makes people become so self-centered, but ... " he shakes his head a little, and smiles a little brighter. "I recall you sitting in a poor position" he announces just before his tongue wets his lips in a slightly exagerrated fashion, and he leans in to kiss her sweetly, his eyes closing - whether she pulls away or not, he'll add, "How turn around and tell me where it hurts" is a feigned authoritative manner.
She is still heated from temper, her cheeks flushed. She doesn't pull away though, but instead of turning around, she throws her arms around his neck, hugging him tight, a swing from temper to tears in an instant. "Ain't ... I mean, reckon... last time..." She fails to complete any sentence, burying her face in his shoulder, dissolving into angry tears.
Alistair starts his a little, not having expected that. He remains there, stunned for a moment, but then his arms quickly wrap around her to hold her close. No innuendo or suggestive motions there, his hands just rub her back comfortingly. "You're a good person" he says softly, one hand coming up to stroke her hair. "Some people just can't appreciate your kindness and try to use it. Don't ever let them make you take that bright smile away from you - for every one such person you run in to, a hundred will appreciate you."
She sniffles for a bit, lifting a hand to rub at her eyes and cheeks. She lifts her face from his shoulder, cheeks flushed for another reason, tears leaving grimy streaks in the oil marks. "I tried to make him a piece happier, visited him, offered to share the garage." She shrugs, snuggling into him, "You hungry?" She asks the latter suddenly, determinedly dismissing the other topic.
"You did good" Alistair replies reassuringly, lookin in her eyes. He smiles, holding her warm, "Mmhmm. Very" he replies, his brows hiking up. "I think you must be too" he leans in to sneak an arm under her and lift her up to sit her up on the worktop. "What's your pleasure?" he asks, flashing a bright smile at her and apparently quite ready to dive for the fridge. Or into it - something like that.
She giggles, perching on the worktop, watching him preparing to dive for the fridge. The tear marks on her face remain but she is smiling a little once more. "Reckon on gettin' some burgers mebbe?" She suggests softly, and they go. They get burgers and chips and eat them in the garage, spending the evening pouring over the design for a grenade.
