Talking shop

Posted on Mon Oct 16th, 2023 @ 10:29 by Alastair Temple & Cameron Johnston

Chapter: All Hallow's Eve
Location: Garage / workshop
Timeline: November 3rd
1307 words - 2.6 OF Standard Post Measure

Of course Al had found his way down to the garage. Or, at least, a space that passed for one, though from the looks of it the area doubled as a classroom. Once down in the workshop though his eyes caught something interesting. And with a low whistle he approached the piece of American classic muscle. "Niiiice," he commented, slowly walking around the Camaro, tracing fingertips over the curves. Ok, the car wasn't in the greatest of condition- for one, the wheels were off and it was mounted on blocks - but that did very little to diminish the beauty of this classic brute.

Ever since the green machine had gone up on blocks, cementing her prominence as a somewhat private yet unavoidable focal point of the learning space, Cameron had grown accustomed to dealing with the paparazzi she attracted. Mostly it had been overly zealous kids who weren't entirely sure why they thought the car was worth gawking at but had been guided by a totally biased authoritative opinion to behave as if in the presence of royalty. He worked on her when he could, which tended to amount to the wee small hours lately, when sleep was a luxury that eluded him more than usual.

"I'd watch her," his voice carried from the doorway. "Steal your heart without a second's remorse."

"She would, if mine wasn't already taken by another~" Al answered the voice, with his own rich baritone. The tall man with the luxurious facial hair tore his gaze away from the car, though his fingertips lingered on the curve of a fender. A smile at the other man, the owner of the voice. "But she's a nice machine. A '73, from the looks of the taillights. And I even like the color," he mused, finally taking a step back from the car. "What you got in here, the five liter? Five-point-seven?"

Still in the process of wiping his hands on the oiled rag he'd walked in with, Cameron smiled faintly at the line of questioning and wandered over. "Take a peek for yourself," he offered, sliding into the driver's seat to pop the hood. If he was honest, there was a faint ulterior motive to involving the man, not to mention that he was deriving a degree of trust from pre-existing evidence that suggested the new arrival had enough nous to avoid unintentional damage. He'd been meaning to track down the guy as it was.

As the hood clicked open Al smirked, opening it completely. "Hm - five liter, from the looks of it. I like a good V8, but prefer the smoother power delivery of an inline six," he commended, closing the hood again and letting it click shut. "Alastair Temple, new music teacher. I came in just a few hours ago, my Skyline is outside, with the other staff cars," he explained. "This Z28 yours?"

"I should be so lucky." Having turned to lean against the car, Cam pulled a sleeve to buff the already-polished headlight and then folded his arms across his chest. "She's a Cavendish, Claire's got this capacity to drop bombshells when you least expect them. Didn't even tell me she was in the market for one, just took herself off and next thing I know, I'm an uncle." Craning his head towards the door, the speedster studied the uninspiring patch of grass just beyond it before continuing. "You might have her beat in terms of pedigree though, never thought I'd see a Skyline up close, if I'm honest."

"She's Claire's?" Al asked, looking at the Camaro again. "I suppose that tracks, yeah. I can see that," Though he hadn't known the woman long and only had one interaction with her, she seemed like the kind of person to see something she wanted, and not waiting for anyone to go and get it. He started towards the door, half motioning for the other man to follow him. "I had the Skyline imported from Japan. Took some doing. I also made some modifications, giving her a little bit more power."

Pushing off, Cam followed, hands finding his pockets to reduce the desire to fidget. "Took some doing, he says." With a huff of laughter, he shook his head at the masterful understatement. "Getting a bunch of first years to grasp the basics of energy transformation 'takes some doing'. Acquiring a Skyline and getting her all the way to Scotland sounds more like a bloody miracle."

"Well, when you really want something you go and get it, right?" Al chuckled. "The rest is just patience and money," he told the man who's name he still didn't know, but that would be easy enough to find out later he supposed. "So you teach shop? That probably makes you Avalon's mechanic too, right?" As they approached the twenty year old, gleaming pearl white import machine.

It was a subtle reminder that his manners had slipped but it worked. "Oh, right. Yeah. Cam Johnston, Design & Tech." Even as he extended a hand to the other man, Cam's gaze was drawn towards the main event. "The syllabus is a bit broader than that, but you're not far off." Ordinarily, this would have been a moment to bring Nessie up with someone who stood a chance at understanding how unique the jet was but, for once, she'd been somewhat upstaged. "There's a garage in town that we have a good relationship with, I'd call it more a joint effort."

"I'll have to check them out, then. It's just good practise to know the garages and mechanics in the area when you're driving a classic," Al explained, firmly shaking Cam's hand.

"You turn up driving this and Graeme'll spend the next week in ICU." Up until now, Cameron had been trying to curb his enthusiasm with limited success, already prone to harbouring the energy of a kid in a candy store as a natural baseline. Tucking his hands under his armpits as if to caution himself not to touch, he shot the man beside him a twinkling gleam and gestured towards the car with his head. "You gonna show me around?"

"I'll do you one better," Al commented as he walked around the long hood of his Skyline, towards the passenger side. "I need some things from town, and you know the way better than I do," he added with a smirk as he tossed Cameron the keys. Normally he wouldn't let just any Tom, Dick or Harry touch his car, but he figured Cameron was as much an enthusiast as he was, so he'd know to treat the girl with respect. Plus, he was still very much new to Avalon and he figured he should at least make an attempt to make friends with the people here.

It was the blessing of elevated reflexes that kept Cameron from dropping the keys to the single-most expensive car he'd ever seen in person onto the gravel. His hesitation, as much as it was a product of momentary shock, also served as a pause for sensible consideration. There was no way in hell he'd be able to afford the insurance excess if he inadvertently wrapped the car around something stationary and uncompromising. Reticence didn't last long, however, and the mutant had to curb his enthusiasm lest he inadvertently rip the handle loose as he opened the door.

It was enough, at least initially, to just sit and mould himself into the contours of the rich leather. Tentative hands hovered, a delicate approach that took its time to settle on the steering wheel and then lingered once it finally made contact to slowly caress the flawless curve.

Eventually though, the anticipation had to give way to temptation, and with a smooth gurgle the inline six roared to life. Yeah, this was going to be good.