batteredbruises

[batteredbruises]

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Harper was easy to spot at work, being the only female mechanic kind of had that effect, but it was a title she wore with pride. The same couldn’t be said for every customer. She did her best to remember someone, but that usually only went as far as the car they drove. That couldn’t be said about Sky and the car that couldn’t catch a break. If it were visiting her, it wouldn’t have been a good day for the vehicle. Most of the staff had gone home for the day, but Harper would rather be anywhere than her trailer, which benefited her late work hours. She was up front, looking through a parts catalogue when he came in, and a knowing expression already sloughed into her face. “What did you do this time?” Harper had swung around on her stool to hop off and go around the counter to assess the damage. “Pull her into the garage and I’ll take a look,” she instructed, giving him the signal to go ahead and bring the car in. Her hands shoved into her coveralls, squinting out at the damage at hand before turning her curiosity back to the driver. “How did you ever get a license?” The comment was not meant in offense but more as amusement. Technically, she benefited from his faults in driving, still cutting him a deal because she got a kick out of it now.

closed for @batteredbruises

If the look on his face was more than a little sheepish, then even then, he would be playing it far cooler than he felt. Truth be told, Sky did not want to be dealing with a mechanic right now.

Not because she was in any way incompetent, nor mean. Nothing like that at all, actually. The simple truth was that Sky was fairly easily intimidated by just about anyone, and when just about anyone happened to be a heavily tattooed, pierced woman wielding a wrench - well, it didn't exactly dissuade his feelings of nervousness, to say the least. He'd met Harper a few times now, a side effect of his inability to drive from point A to B without incident, and yet his anxiety remained - maybe partially due to a sense that he was about to be ridiculed justifiably for the reasoning behind his third trip to Romano's this month alone. "Hey, uh, I might have fucked up a bit this time...."

[batteredbruises]

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Magic didn't come easy, necessarily, but there was something natural about it. Harper couldn't explain the feeling besides feeling like it was what she was meant to do, even if she was still figuring it out. She tried not to think about what it would've been like if she knew the family whose blood electrified her veins, but it was only her father whom she considered a parent. He'd been there for her, and not the mother who never cared to get to know her daughter. It'd been eleven years since Harper lost her father, and her chosen family was all she had now. Eve presented a safe place to learn, to grow, into the witch she was. It was Eve who invested time in her and helped hone her craft. They might've been one of the only places she felt at home.

Her eyes lit up, shifting in her seat to sit straight, looking for signs that their friend was joking. "Wait, are you serious?" She didn't want to seem too excited, but it was clear. Something so simple could somehow mean so much. "Good, you should like your own food," the girl said matter-of-factly. To her, Eve couldn't be beat. With a mouthful of food, she nodded, a hand covering her chewing in preparation to reply once she swallowed. "Yeah, I'm still having trouble when it comes to like... stopping it?" Harper exhaled heavily, the air deflating from her body. "Every time I try to use a flame or heat some leftovers up, it basically just burns to a crisp. I legit can't get it to stop," she explained, frustration clear in her voice.

Eve was always intentional about using their magic around Harper, wanting her to understand that she could always grow, always deepen her connection. Part of why Eve was so connected in their magic was because they had spent a lot of time alone, finding that there were few things they desired more then being trained and intentionally powerful in their abilities. "Who knows, maybe I did. It might be time for 'The Harper' to make it's debut on the menu, don't you think?" They smiled sweetly, completely serious about it. Naming dishes after people they cared for was something they loved and why they loved the space they had curated at the cafe.

They let out a soft laugh, appreciating Harper's praise as they watched her take a bite. "You are a very generous critic but I like it a lot too so it's staying." Eve sat back as a cup of tea landed gently in front of them before they reached for it. "So, aside from friendly portraits, how have you spent your week? Did you get into that homework I have you? Give practice a chance?"

[batteredbruises]

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He was curious to say the least but the peculiar appealed to Harper, perhaps due to being a witch or simply because she viewed herself as such. Not that she found him particularly odd but views outside of the norm were often perceived that way regardless. Maybe it placed a part in why she knew there must've been more out there in the abyss because what she did not know didn't make it untrue. In fact, Harper believed more in the unknown than that which she knew to be certain, that maybe amidst that her father might be waiting for her. "Not yet, you haven't," she suggested with a smile coming into view. The girl meandered over so that their line of sight would be the same and plopped onto the ground, wiping the dirt from her hand with one swipe to her ripped black tights. "That's a relief, I'm hoping it's a lot more interesting than little green guys." Harper's eyes were on the sky now, waiting for what may or may not show itself to them. Even if tonight wasn't the time she didn't think there was any harm in hoping. "What're you looking for? How do you know you've seen a UFO?" Maybe she had or perhaps every time it was only a satellite. She'd look anyway, just in case. "I mean for all we know all of those stars are aliens looking down and laughing at us right now."

There was an amount of disappointment felt when the other couldn't see what he saw, but it faded relatively quickly as she confirmed that she did believe that there was something up there in the sky. It wasn't a lot, but it was good enough, Stoker supposed. "Yeah," he sat up straighter as the two began to converse more properly. "I don't think it's ever been anything exciting, though. Like..." thinking hard about what words to use next, he risked almost losing his train of thought entirely. "UFOs are just unidentified flying objects, they're not always little green men," the tone in which he spoke these words was nothing but sheer disappointment. "I totally think there's life up there, though. And who knows? Maybe I've seen it a bunch, but I've just been looking for all the wrong things. They're definitely not actually little green men, you know."

[batteredbruises]

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While he was speaking about her own bandmates, Harper was amused at the digs at the boys. She actually kind of liked the idea that she fit into the same box or at least only one foot was inside. The smirk sat plain on her face, even as he found a way to jab at her as well. In fact, it only made her laugh, giving a shake of her head with her eyes going back to the song journal. "Good thing I don't need that to make good music," the brunette mused with a simple shrug. Appearances never meant all that much to her. If that had been the case she certainly wouldn't have decided to be a mechanic where her hands were almost always dirty and her ability to do makeup next to none. She'd been raised by her father, he didn't know how to teach a little girl how to be a woman, but Harper thought she turned out just fine the way she was. "As if any of them could get me to finish." A huff of laughter pressed out once again and eyes slid up to the man full of words against her band. The hate was rooted in history she didn't know well but wondered if she could find information in their conversation. "You can enjoy your mess and I'll stay free of mine," Harper finalized with a deep inhale and refocus to the words ahead of her. They'd had the tendency to haunt her, the constant repetition until finding what sounded just right.

Most of her scribbles were about the life with her father more-so, his death. That wasn't information she wanted to share, especially not with someone who fed off the hate for her bandmates and any fuel to her heart wasn't a fire she wanted started. "People don't want to talk about the real shit enough if you ask me," the girl mumbled as she plucked at her instrument for inspiration. These notes hadn't been coming together, a disconnect from the mask she put on and a glimpse into her pain didn't come together every time. "Thanks, I actually really appreciate that. No one's ever seen my shit before." A small confession to a near stranger and suspected enemy but he'd been given permission for a glimpse. "Not like I don't trust the guys, you know, just not the kind of stuff they'd be into." She believed that wholeheartedly. What she wrote wouldn't bleed into the Wrathchild style or suit their taste. Instead, Harper kept to herself or at least that slice of her life and no one ever asked. "Play a D-flat for me will ya?" While she'd imagined some of her songs with layers, but without enough hands to do it all, the melody stayed in her head. Now was her opportunity to find the sound she'd searched for. A few of the words came from her lips when he struck the note, adding one of her own to give a full picture. "That was like, actually kinda rad."

Jules watched Harper's hands play her bass, alongside his own guitar. The only other Wrathchild member he played with was Billy, a long time ago now, and had pretty much blacklisted everyone associated with the band since then. Jamming with Harper, even if it was only unamplified and in the background, felt a little like cheating on a partner, intrinsically wrong but feeling oh so right. He would know too, with only a little bit of shame. He didn't acknowlege it outloud though, just let it happen while they talked. "Well I am a little surprised, Wrathchild just has a way off making every member a turn off, you're an enigma." He shrugged, "I'd probably go so far to say your three-oh-two, only just though, maybe some lipstick would help your chances." Jules grinned, obviously pleased with his compliment so backhanded it may have well just been an insult. He had dropped the point-75 from his band whenever he talks about it outloud, but it's still an important aspect of the bands name. Jules chuckled lightly at Harper's comment about sleeping with bandmates, "It is messy, that's the best part." He said, leaning heavily into the innuendo. "Not any of your band though, you'll definitely catch something." He lied, at least to his knowledge, "That, or they'll say some shit about how your moans have too much bass." His voice filled with malice, obviously drawing some inspiration for his words from an actual conversation he had with Billy. The noodling of his guitar continued, complimenting whatever Harper did on her bass.

Jules was obviouslly chuffed by the fact he got a laugh out of Harper, but he didn't point it out, at least not outloud. It was obvious in the smile that he made though. He was a little surprised that Harper agreed to show him her journal, he figured she would assume that he would insult whatever she wrote, but he wouldn't do that. At least not to her, not for someone's own work, he's had enough of meaningless uninvited critiquing to know better. He reached out, grabbing the journal from her hand, and read what was on the page. The music took a second to decypher, but that was expect to him, his journals were barely readible for himself, let alone other people, much to Jenny's dismay. Reading the words was interesting to Jules, and made him even more surprised that Harper had offered him to read it. "This shit is pretty moody," he stated, before looking up to her, "I like it, it's different." He stated, tone matter-of-fact, but he had a slight smile on his face. Not forced like his usual smiles, it was actually his muscles naturally settling in this fashion. "And fuck rock, don't force this to be rock, or metal, or anything. Just repeat a bassline and shout the lyrics into a garbage can or something." Jules said. His advice was half-assed, but he meant what he said, he had stopped forcing a genre on his work a long time ago. "And don't show any of the other Wrath-douchebags, especially Billy, they'll just suck the blood out of it like the leeches they are." He didn't flick through the pages of the journal, as much as he wanted to, but he did balance it on his knee and he fiddled with some of the notes and chords that he could figure out.

[batteredbruises]

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A hand went over her heart as if his words were a bullet to the chest. He had a point. The more he could do on his own, the less need he'd have for a mechanic. "You're right, we can't have that. I can't be out of a job here," she started, a smile already forming instead of her usual tight-lipped amusement. "I'll make sure I don't teach you the big stuff, so you'll still have to come bug me sometimes." Part of which was because some automotive work needed a skilled hand but the rest an excuse to make sure she'd see him around. Harper didn't get particular about her customers, willing to help anyone with their rustbucket, though she didn't often request their return unless the car really needed it. This was a bit of a selfish case and her motives weren't necessarily work-related. "Stick in the middle? That's a new one." Surprisingly she hadn't heard it referred to so simply but found amusement in it nonetheless. Harper's laugh danced over the counter as her dirty palms rubbed against her coveralls, unsure if it was getting anything off or putting old grease back on.

He hadn't refused her request. No excuse was made for why he wasn't interested or that someone else might've been in the picture. Harper took it in stride, accepting his comfortability with her own lax nature. "As long as it's cold, it's my favorite," she confirmed with a breathed laugh. This was the most conversational customer she'd ever encountered yet Harper found it oddly easy to talk to him. Maybe it was the smile that seemed harmless or his awkward nature, either way, she couldn't help but find something charming about him. "Surprise me, whatever you've got will be great." An affirmative nod was given before holding up a finger to signal one more question. "You have tools or should I bring my own? It'll cost you an extra beer if I gotta bring my own supplies," the girl joked, flicking her gaze back up to catch his. "And be sure to wear a shirt you don't care about, it's gonna get dirty. My dad used to say you aren't doing it right if you aren't filthy after."

Lucky felt hopeful as the two of them spoke, which was a feeling that he felt around a lot of pretty women, but something was different about Harper. It wasn't blind hope, the kind that he usually experienced when trying to score a date with someone, no, it was more than that; Harper was being genuinely nice, their conversation was genuinely nice, and in hindsight, it wasn't exactly hope that Lucky even felt at all. Instead, Lucky just felt good as he stood there interacting with the mechanic, finding that they seemed to just click - even if only on a surface level.

"But if you start teaching me things, then I wouldn't have an excuse to come in and see you as often," Lucky half-joked. Even while the interaction was panning out to be a lot more genuinely pleasant than the ones he usually had with women - most of which were shallow attempts at picking up - Lucky couldn't change who he fundamentally was; of course he was somewhat flirting, at least until he was given a sign that Harper wasn't into it. Laughing, Lucky shook his head. "Oh no, I'm not that imaginative; it's just 'the stick in the middle' to me," he laughed as he told her the honest name for the gearshift.

Learning a thing or two about cars became of much more interest at the offer of a house call and some beers shared together. He liked how upfront Harper was with the idea, straightening up ever so slightly in excitement. "Oh yeah?" He wasn't used to other people matching his energy in the way that Harper was so far. "I'd love that, I can definitely sort something out; you got a favourite beer? I've got some local stuff that's pretty good, but I need to restock anyway."

[batteredbruises]

Amber Midthunder for Grumpy Magazine

[batteredbruises]

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Work was work whatever way she sliced it, though sometimes there would be a car or a person that struck her in particular. Lucky and his piece of work had been the most excitement she'd had in days. There was laughter trickling out before she even noticed, finding herself shooting the shit with a stranger and silently hoping he'd find his way back to the garage sometime. "Don't tell me that, I'm your mechanic, I always want you in here sooner," she half-joked, knowing the truth beneath that statement. Most of the time it was a problem that would be less catastrophic if they'd brought the vehicle in earlier but that took away some of the fun, at least for Harper. The worse the car the more excited she'd get to see what was under the hood.

"Well, now you've got me so if it starts makin' some weird noises just give me a call. I can show you a thing or two if you want, so at least you wouldn't be shit out of luck if something happened." Partially an excuse to see him again, while also doing some good for a guy who might be stuck in that situation after seeing his ride. Besides, anyone who got along with her this quickly was someone who she'd make sure she saw again, not everyone standing out. "Next you're going to tell me you call the gearshift the prindle," Harper replied with a laugh already exposing itself. The brunette thought for a moment, even giving the theatrics of tapping her index finger to her chin. "Maybe, just maybe, I'd make a house call if you wanted to learn a thing or two. As long as there's a cold beer when I got there, we could call it even." The truth was it might've been her job but there were many years she did this for free. Besides, when it came to showing people what she loved so much, Harper didn't need the money. That sort of thing paid for itself.

Lucky laughed warmly, clearly delighted by Harper's sense of humour and maybe a little too proud that his barely-functioning car had earned such attention. "An honour? Well, damn. If I knew bringing my car in would win me praise like that, I might’ve come by sooner," he said, tone light and friendly as ever. He really meant it, too; there was no sarcasm in his voice, just the earnest charm of someone who thought Harper was doing something impressive that he could never dream of pulling off himself.

"You should know, I have absolutely no idea what a crankshaft does. Or what it is. Or where it is. Like, you could point to the cup holder and I’d believe you. I know next to nothing about what’s under the hood." He smiled sheepishly, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. "But I do know enough to say I’m real grateful someone like you does. They don't call me Lucky for no reason, but even I know luck runs out if you push it too far. Or at least that's what I'm told, so, lesson learned."

He gave a little shrug, like he knew he probably would still put things off longer than he should, but maybe he’d feel worse about it now. Or maybe Harper's attention was finally enough to persuade him to change for the better, though he tried to not think so desperately. "I’ll do my best to bring it in regularly. Not just for the car’s sake, but, you know, 'cause it’s nice talking to someone who actually knows what they’re doing. That’s rarer than you’d think."

[batteredbruises]

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What his eyes said that his mouth didn't make Harper take notice, shifting her gaze between him and the vehicle. "Don't think you're getting off easy though, you're helping me get this shitbox purring like a kitten," she assured him using her thumb to motion back at the car. There was no way she wouldn't make him help, not just because she knew that hunk of metal was more than just a car. That's how car enthusiasts felt about their vehicles, and Harper could only imagine the love they had for their racecar.

"We're going to get her running like new or do our damn best." She wasn't a miracle worker but Harper diagnosed it with needing TLC more than anything. Some supplies, like her tools, oil, and jack, were in the back, but they'd need to get her to the shop to do the big stuff. "I'm going to do what I can here, have you take her for another few laps, and see how it feels," Harper's plan poured from her lips as she thought it through. "Then if you've got time bring her to the garage I work at, we can go through the whole engine to clear her up and running smoother than ever." A checklist of things they could go over being made in her head while her hands went into autopilot to pull the jack from the bed of the truck parked along the pit. "If you wanna grab my toolbox from the passenger seat and the flask in the side pocket, that'd be great. And I'll get her up so we can get a better look." Harper was placing the jack in the right place to not damage the car while also properly supporting it. A satisfied hmph comes out before beginning to press the lever down to send the car upward. "I don't know if you're a whiskey guy but it's a necessity for me," the brunette half-joked when she turned around to check back in with the Dante.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Dante nodded in agreement, his focus narrowing as Harper rattled off her plan. He could feel the weight of the race, the pressure to get everything just right, but hearing her confidence made him feel a little more at ease. He glanced at the car again, fingers itching to dive in and get to work. His gaze drifted to the car, fingers twitching at his sides like they were already reaching for a wrench. That car was more than just steel and rubber to him. It was history. Habit. His second heartbeat.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Aye, sounds good to me.” He said, tossing his helmet aside and giving the car another affectionate pat. “Swappin’ the coolant’s probably a good call. Yeah, let’s check the belt too. Been feelin’ somethin’ off with that for a while now.” He crouched down beside the car, tilting his head like he could hear it whispering secrets through the chassis. The corner of his mouth tugged into a small grin as he looked back up at Harper, a flicker of something easier in his dark eyes. 

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He gave her a small grin, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. "You do your thing, and I’ll be right here handing over whatever tools you need. We’ll get this baby purrin' in no time." He usually worked on his own cars, but, well, he was at his fucking limit, and definitely appreciated the help.

[batteredbruises]

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She needed to escape that night after band practice. A cigarette was calling her name and the fresh pack in her purse had her name on it. The girl was lighting up somewhere she thought was away from prying eyes but a voice caused her to jolt, but her hand stayed steady. Harper's eyes were only on the stranger momentarily before following his hand to the sky. She squinted in the hopes whatever he saw reappeared for her own viewing pleasure but nothing showed itself. "I don't think so, but there's like for sure there's something up there," the girl agreed without hesitation. That much she knew to be certain, there was no way they were alone in this world. "Have you seen a real one before?" He must be on something but she didn't flinch, only taking a long drag of her cigarette as if it could still give her some sort of high. "It'll totally come back," the girl said deciding upon it already, regardless of what she saw.

Open starter for @cardinalstart

Located anywhere outside

Content warning for drug use

While the sky had long ago grown dark, the moon was shining bright overhead, allowing Stoker to see the figure close to him. His body felt weak with fatigue and intoxication as he sat on the cold ground, and his eyes were fixated up into the sky as if it was the most important thing to do so. Upon first glance, it wasn't easy to tell if Stoker was excited or scared; the truth was, he felt a bit of both. "There!" He suddenly pointed upwards, finally averting his gaze to face the other, eyes frequently flickering back to the spot he was pointing at despite his attempt at focusing on his company. "D'you see that? Tell me you see that, there's definitely something up there." Stoker was indeed claiming to see a UFO, and he could only hope that the other saw it, too.

[batteredbruises]

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She was convinced if it weren't for her, the rest of Wraithchild would have died in car-related accidents by now. They didn't prioritize that part of their lives in the same way they did other aspects, such as their instruments. Harper was happy to keep them running even if she usually didn't make much if any, money from the job. Whenever she worked on friends' vehicles she cut them a deal. Even that sometimes wasn't enough and all she could do was groan, like now as her dark eyes glared over at Cubs.

"Fine, I get it, you're broke," she confirmed as if it wasn't common knowledge. Harper held up her index finger to signal him to wait as she rummaged through a few part books behind the desk. A satisfied 'ah' pressed from her tight-lipped smile as she started to flip through the pages. "Alright, I can get you a set new for like $75 or see what I could find used for $50." Her eyes glanced up from the booklet and back to her comrade, waiting for his answer that she expected to be the latter. Harper didn't even know why she asked but hoped he'd prioritize his safety, knowing well that he wouldn't. "For today I'm only charging you for the oil and the filter so $20 is all you're out this time," she said rubbing her hand on her jumpsuit before shoving the book back in place. "Then she's good to go."

Cubs had been putting this moment off for as long as possible. He might not have a direct death wish as Harper implied but with his reckless behavior on all accounts he was incredibly poor at risk management and put himself in potentially fatal predicaments all the time. He didn't fear death and his time would come whenever it did and he kinda hoped it'd be in a blaze of glory and not because he slammed into the back of a semi on the freeway because his brakes no longer worked. So maybe it was finally time to get his brake pads changed.

Cubs followed Harper up to the register and leaned against the counter as she talked about all the deals she was willing to cut him. Even if he was getting the best possible savings that didn't change the fact that Cubs was broke. "Look, I got like $150 bucks to my name until Friday so do whatever you gotta to keep it under that," Cubs said. While it probably would've saved him in the long run to actually replace his brakes so he wouldn't have to go through this again in another 3,000 miles when he inevitably wears the used pads down he didn't have the best foresight and even if he did he still wouldn't be able to pay for it. "How much do I owe you today? I can still drive out of here, right?" He said. Even though it would be much safer to keep his car there until his brakes were changed he still needed a set of wheels and he'd rather risk it a couple more days than be forced to walk everywhere.

[batteredbruises]

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"But you did sooo, sucks for you," she said with a proud smile coming into view. Now he was stuck hearing from her until the arrival of another band member that was still unknown. Each had set their bets but only time could tell now. Besides, it wasn't like the guy had done anything to her and she was actually kind of curious about the Jules she'd heard about. "You say that like you're surprised." A joke but Harper was amusing herself, as seen clearly from the grin she could wipe off. It had curled into part of a smirk settling into their impromptu jam session. Her guitar acted as an armrest that she draped herself over. She'd only had one that her father scrounged and saved to buy her for Christmas one year. It was with her since high school, one of the things she held most dear. Not only had that instrument been one of the last things Harper ever received from him but a gateway to her heart. The strings were her therapy, words that never saw the light of day painted the world she knew. "Ew, no," the girl replied with a scrunch of disgust. "It's messy to fuck your bandmate, makes shit complicated." Though she wasn't blind to the common knowledge that Jules and Jenny were more than just co-workers. The same couldn't be said for Harper who hadn't even shared her lyrics with them to not get in the way of the band.

Had he actually made her laugh? She wondered as one rolled out, giving a nod before gently flipping the cover of her journal open. It was just two musicians sharing music anyway and he wasn't her enemy, an adjacent one at best. "Yeah I'm thinking of starting a polka band, I really think I could pull off a new genre by adding some bass." What was normally heavy metal got tuned down to rock in the things she wrote herself. Wrathchild didn't belong to her, not like that, she played what she was given and was happy to do so. "That's horrible logic, a crime you even tried, but I'll oblige this time," Harper said as if she hadn't already decided to share before that. His argument was garbage but the truth was, a second pair of eyes could be helpful. "This is the one I was working on." Her book was flipped to a page covered in scribbled-out words, arrows, and a few loose musical notes. It was the chores she hadn't been able to work out for weeks now. "I can't figure out how to make it sound like rock still but still like I'm talking about some serious fucking shit and I'm a moody bitch," she laughed but it was the only way she could think to explain. It was the first time Harper had to explain the vibe her music was supposed to portray after all.

"Harper!" Jules shouted, "I was pretty fucking close. I shouldn't have given up, I would've finally had some peace and quiet then." He said, a mischevious grin on his lips. As much as he would say otherwise, having Harper around would be considerably better than being alone. "Whatever, you're a hotter face than Lucien's oh so intense brooding, I can hardly complain." He chuckled lightly at himself. He grabbed his guitar, an Ibanez UV77, 7 strings, a large amount of the hardware having been replaced or fixed over the short time he's owned it that it might as well be a guitar of theseus. It's multicoloured paint job has also been chipped, scratched, repainted, and carved to all hell. Jules loves experimenting on his equipment, even if it leads to it's sound becoming functionally electrical discharge when plugged in. He still finds a use for that in songs though. Strumming across the unplugged instrument, the ambient noise of unamplified electric guitar noodling filling the room, Jules looked at Harper, "How long have you even been with those fuckwits anyway?" He knows she didn't help found the band he resents, but her face has been apart of it for long enough to know she's not some two weeker straight passing through town without anything better to do. "Tell me, how many times has Cubs tried to sleep with you? Oh god, don't tell me he has? You know you're better than that Harlow." He grinned like a hyena, he didn't really care about what Harper does, but he did admittedly have a curiousity about her. It was hard not to when she was the only member of the band he didn't directly hate, only second hand hate. Hate by association.

Harper closing the book in response to Jules was expected, but he still let out a click of his tongue in disapointment at the denial of his curiosity. "Touché," he couldn't lie that he didn't know a lot about her. In all honesty he didn't know a lot about any her bandmates. He actually didn't know a lot about most people, he never went out of his way to learn, it definitely had some consequences on how many people he considers close to him. Jenny the exception, of course. "A different style? What are we talking, jazz? Folk? Polka? Fucking disco? Christ don't tell me you're trying to break out into pop." He pointed at her when she came up with the excuse to not show him, "I was trying to kick you out, but now you're staying because I couldn't guess you name. So I guess that means you have to show me." He forced an humerously inquisitive face, knowing full well just how shakey his logic was.

[batteredbruises]

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Harper didn't take well to losing, regardless of what it was in. That seemed to be how it went between her and the rest of the band. Harper almost always got her ass beat. She thought this one would be easy but Lucien was picking it up like a duck to water. The lack of enthusiasm for this discovery was written on her blank expression. At least he was getting a kick out of it. "Yeah, enjoy it while it lasts," she warned as if he could lose it any second. Her last move would've proven the exact opposite but that never stopped her before. She would try until the end, even if Harper failed it was never for lack of trying. Besides, if she was going to lose to anyone she thought Lucien was the best sport about it. Unlike Cubs, the type to take his win for a run around the neighborhood.

"Oh, aren't you gracious." A joke but she snarled at him to increase her intimidation while knowing it would do nothing of the sort. The band was built up of her best friends, they knew her too well to not see through her antics. "This one is the one, I can feel it," she said in hopes of manifesting a ball into the pocket. Harper gave an excited squeal when it went exactly as planned and prayed her luck wasn't short-lived. "Alright, we back on track, baby," she cooed at her friend with a smile forming between words. It happened to set her up to sink one more, satisfied even when her third missed entirely. That was good enough for her to maintain a smile as she moved out of the way for Lucien to step in. "Show me how it's done, professional," Harper egged him on.

Lucien relied on certain people for certain experiences. Since experiencing the injury that took away so much of his ability in his once dominant hand, not everything was as easy as it once was; sports or activities that required two hands, for example, felt almost impossible at times. Lucien had watched Harper play pool before, however, so when she proposed the game, he didn't turn her down. If he felt safe to compete against anyone, it had to be her, even though he did expect her to win. All he could hope for was her skills being unimproved enough for him to feel at least somewhat on par.

His expectations had been so very far from high; he hadn't expected to be in the lead at all during the game, and so naturally, when he found himself coming up on top, he could hardly contain his smugness. "God forbid a man be happy!" He defended himself, though that smug smile on his face only grew to an enormously smug grin when she finally called him out for it. "Hey! I'm not saying anything," he laughed again, though really, it was taking everything in his power to not gloat. "But if the shoe fits..." he couldn't help but to utter, chuckling to himself as he lined up his own shot. It felt clunky, holding the cue in an unnatural way compared to how he would have held it in the past, but somehow, even despite the awkwardness, Lucien's shot succeeded in what might have been the most impressively smooth shot of the game. "Can't all be professionals like me," he teased, though the high was short lived as his next shot, much like Harper's, turned out to be an utter failure. "Suppose I should let you catch up; would be rude not to," he excused his failure, knowing full well that Harper would know that it definitely hadn't been intentional.

[batteredbruises]

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What she did was small but Harper hoped it could offer some thanks for all that the people around her did. She was good with cars, sure, but it wasn't necessarily a skill that could be used to show her love. It hadn't even been something she said much growing up, her father wasn't the type, Harper just knew he did. Not saying it more often was a useless regret now, it wouldn't bring him back and he felt it, she was sure. Now she had chosen family. Eve helped her understand herself and the powers her father never could. "As they must be, they deserve it for being so gorgeous," she gushed about the feathered friend. A content hum pressed her lips together as the scent of warm bread filled the surrounding air. Eve couldn't make a bad sandwich but Harper was happy to confirm every time they needed it. Even watching them work was entrancing, a smile pinching the edge of the raven-haired girl's lips. Harper wished she could manage that at the shop but that was a little too advanced for her yet.

"That sounds seriously so good. Fig? Like you're joking." She was already rubbing her stomach as it growled in preparation. The more Eve explained the dish, the more her salivary glands cried. "Focaccia too? My favorite. It's like you designed this for me specifically," Harper joked, just as happy with anything she got offered. When the meal joined the party Harper's hands were already reaching to make her first bite. She gave Eve a dramatic look as she chewed, holding a hand over her mouth as she spoke through the movement. "Okay, I know I say it every time but this seriously might be your best one yet."

Eve could think of a few things it couldn't fix. Like their relationship with their brother for one but they would keep that to themselves. That was something they would rarely open up to someone about but they knew they had to eventually. "Mmm now that would be something to see. They might be a bit fussy but they're a diva, they love attention. So I imagine they would love to pose for you after you giving you some annoyance," they said with a laugh, the thought of it actually making them smile. Even more so when they could practically feel Amory rolling their eyes in the distance. "Oh one of those sandwiches already have your name on it, don't you worry. It'll be out in a bit." When the hours were later and Eve was sure that they were only witches in the cafe, it was a little easier to have fun. Food was floating in and out of the ovens without them picking up a finger. It was how they wished it could always be but alas, just another thing they had to live through.

"I've been experimenting with some new spreads. This one has a fig spread. Some say something with bacon is good with fig jam, others love Brie but I'm always back and forth with brie on a sandwich. So we're trying them all out. Fig jam BLT sort of. I kind of want to make more of a melt without lettuce but you can tell me what you think. Either way we're using some freshly baked focaccia so it's going to be a great bite." As if right on cue, one of the sandwiches gently landed on the plate in front of them. "the BLT in question, let me know what you think."

[batteredbruises]

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Harper was in her element, the smell of gasoline fueling her the way it did the vehicle. The fleeting thought that her father would've loved being out here is pushed away by the job at hand. He was trusting her with his stock car and she wanted to make sure Dante didn't regret that for a second. Harper considered herself the best for the job, proving exactly that as she deciphered the clues the car gave her. Upon hearing him speak to the object a smile formed at the proof he was no different than her. To them, these cars were like people and Harper wanted to make sure his girl ran to the best of her ability. "Yeah, absolutely," the ink-haired mechanic said as ideas continued to run. His next explanation gave her what she needed to know what they would try next. "We'll swap the coolant, check the belt too, and I'll give it a once over to make sure we aren't missing anything." Harper was determined to get his lap time up to where his skills allowed, not wanting his car to be what kept him from success if she could help it. This was the most exciting job she'd had for ages and didn't want to mess it up, she wouldn't, she couldn't. "I'll always take an extra hand and once we're down there I can show you a few things to look for next time you're out on the track so we can pinpoint what's making it sluggish."

‎‎ ‎ ‎As he approached, he pulled his helmet off and raked a hand through sweat-damp curls, face flushed from the heat and adrenaline still working its way out of his system. He was silent for a moment as Harper first began speaking, and he found himself staring at her lips, trying to grasp what she'd been saying. When she was done, he glanced toward turn 3 like he could see the problem she was talking about.

‎‎ ‎ ‎"Yeah." He said plainly, turning back to his car and leaning in closer. "Aye, pobrecita." Dante sighed, patting the car on the hood. "It's subtle, but it's like she starts dragging her feet, y'know?" Dante quickly turned back to Harper in case she started talking. "She's been running heavy in the middle stretch, ugh, been killing my lap time. Kip's been tellin' me she's been tight, but we've tried a few things. They ain't working." Sighing, he continued, "But yeah. Let's get under it, then." He pushed off the side of the car, wiping his hands on the legs of his fire suit. "You lead the charge; I'll hand you the tools."

[batteredbruises]

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The girl was finding more amusement than she expected right off the bat. Since she hadn't formally been introduced to Jules, she'd only heard things from her bandmates who had nothing nice to say and now was the chance to see how it all held up. Firstly, Harper hadn't expected him to be so effortlessly funny, even if it wasn't necessarily done on purpose. "Who the fuck do you know named Harlow?" A laugh was bubbling before the words had even gotten out. It had become a game for her now, keeping her name like the candy in the middle of a Tootsie Pop. "Closer," she teased giving him a glimpse at his success. Once he succumbed to her wishes a satisfied smile creased her cheeks and her posture adjusted proudly over her journal. "Awe, but you were getting so close." She'd actually been enjoying his attempts that the fun being over brought a frown at the corner of her lips. "Harper." Only said once and it was up to him if he'd even remember it.

With his wandering eyes, she instinctively shut the lyrics out of view. of any bystanders. "Yeah well you didn't even know my name until a second ago so looks like there's a lot you have to learn." The rest of the band didn't really know about her passion projects. Harper would argue they hadn't asked but it wasn't like she'd told them either. "I don't know, I don't think it's total shit. Just not the same style as what we play, you know," she replied trying to explain her secrecy, not that Jules would be the one to tell her band. "I mean, I'd show you but you were trying to kick me out a second ago."

Jules smacked his lips at Harper's condition for her to tell him her name. He shrugged, a malicious grin on his face that he saves for Wrathchild members, before answering her question, "Probably. There is a pretty good chance that I will just tell you to get out." He walked in, pulling down the shutter a bit over halfway, enough to keep the light out. "I could definitely just guess it anyway, Harlow? Nah it's not that..." He openly pondered as he walked towards the sound system the band's had set up semi-permanently. He wouldn't just give up his mission of trying to guess her name, especially not when getting her to answer would mean she sticks around. "Guess we will just have to wait." He said, turning around and sitting on one of his amps that lives in the storage unit after he stopped bothering taking it home a very long time ago. "Hadley?" He asked, but he knew it wasn't true. Nothing was coming to his mind, and Harper really wasn't the worst person to be around, relative to the rest of Wrathchild. Besides, it could be interesting to chat with her, he's never really talked to many of the rival members in a while. "Fuck, fine, you can stay. At least until Jenny gets here. Now what's your name?"

When she mentioned working on personal songs, Jule's eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Wow, I'm surprised that you guys are capable of writing originals. Don't tell Cubs or you might get a slap on the wrist." He tried to look over to the notebook that sat at her feet, unable to see anything written down. "Anything good?" He wouldn't say that he cared, but he was pretty interested. If there was anything that he felt more passionate about other than his hate of Wrathchild, it was his love of music.

[batteredbruises]

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He wasn't anything special at first glance. Tall, with nice eyes, he wasn't unattractive, but Harper wondered if his initial charm would wear off. Many of the guys who came into the shop talked down to her as if they were surprised she could do what they couldn't, this one seemed to have respect for the words she gave. That gave Harper the confidence to keep explaining her findings since he had an ear willing to listen. "I don't often say this but it was an honor to work on that rig," the girl chuckled in response. "Don't think I've ever seen a crankshaft that creaky still work like new. So whatever you're doing to get that kind of luck, let me know."

Harper had never been quite lucky herself. In fact, she deemed herself as quite the opposite. Sure, life had a way of working out, but not without a series of unfortunate events that she endured on the way. For growing up around a mechanic she'd actually had pretty horrible luck with cars, most of them being a bigger project than she projected or the best she could do on her budget. Now that the girl got her motorcycle, that had been much less of an issue. It was easier to take care of, cheaper gas, and about all she could afford when she got into town. "To make sure it doesn't go from hunky-dory to catastrophic failure just keep bringing it in normally, okay? I don't want your luck running out on my watch." He would be a customer she might actually hope came back even if she'd blame it on wanting to see that shitbox car still running.

Much to his father's chagrin, Lucky had never learnt a whole lot about cars. He knew the basics, such as what models were hot, and what models were not, but his knowledge pretty much ended there. He could drive them, but he couldn't tell you what really went on under the hood. Thankfully, in a comfortable position at his father's real estate company, making enough money to get himself out of almost any issue, Lucky didn't have to know how cars worked. He could simply take his in to someone qualified, and then pick it up later as good as new. If only that was as easy in practice as it was in theory, the man admittedly putting the trip to Romano's off day after day, it being a miracle not only that the car was still taking him from point A to point B, but that Lucky had made the time to take it to the mechanics at all.

With an oblivious grin on his face, Lucky stepped towards Harper and he extended his hand, a hand greatly contrasting the hands that most mechanics ought to have, a hand that looked like they'd never done a hard day's work in all thirty-two years they'd been on the earth. "Harper," he repeated in greeting, "nice to meet you, thank you." While completely unaware of how cars worked, Lucky knew enough to know that it wasn't an easy job to work on them; he appreciated Harper immediately. The news of how baffling it was that his car still drove at all had Lucky raise his eyebrows with nothing less than complete surprise. "Oh my god, really?" He questioned, chuckling ever so slightly. "Well, there's no witchcraft involved, is sheer luck a good enough explanation?"

[batteredbruises]

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Harper took care in making sure her friend's shitboxes didn't end up in the junkyard. One of the hardest to convince it was time to bring in their vehicle was her bandmate. Cubs had his own agenda most of the time, and she frequently tried to get him to adjust it, not always with much success. She'd sentenced him to the waiting room while she wrapped things up, not wanting to bring him back while other mechanics were at work, knowing that was reserved for after hour jobs. Her hip pushed open the door while a dirty rag was run over the grease stains on her hand. The smell of stale oil had becone like a perfume, and she was unsure why she even tried to keep herself clean anymore, her coveralls stained in every cranny.

"If you have a fucking death wish," she retorted with a blank glare. It was obvious they were shot but Harper let him contiue to live in that delusion most of the time. "I don't even charge you for labor, you can get them replaced you cheapskate." There were ways around the money or at least enough that even Cubs could afford new brakepads. "Your oil is changed, new filter, the whole nine yards," the brunette contiued, stepping towards the counter to get him checked out. "I can probably call my guy down at the impound to see if I can get some take-off brake pads for like a quarter of the price if you want to be a stickler about it. They're not gonna last as long but that's never stopped you before."

Closed starter for Harper Gall ( @batteredbruises ) Location: Romano's

After Harper's bitching about bringing his car in Cubs was finally getting the vehicle checked out. Besides, he needed an oil change anyways and while that was something Cubs usually did himself to save a few bucks he might as well throw it in and get it done if he was bringing his car in anyways. Cubs sat in the waiting room downing the complimentary cups of coffee like they were going out of style until Harper finally appeared in the room.

"So? What's the verdict? I bet I can get another 2000 miles on them," Cubs claimed about his brakes that should've been changed the last time he'd brought his car in for a tune up. Despite how much he liked his car he was shit about the maintenance of his Ford Fiesta. He never had the money and he'd run his car into the ground until he absolutely had to do something about it and so far his squeaky brakes weren't bothering him too bad.