2019-09-14 - Fix Up My Hover-Ride


Priscilla needs her bike fixed. Robbie's the guy to do it. He's probably REALLY lucky too.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Sat Sep 14 03:12:59 2019
Location: RP Room 3

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Usually Priscilla can do her own maintenance on her bike, which is a good thing and cheaper. But sometimes she just has to take it to a professional. And that time is now. And the garage she has chosen is one she has heard good things about from a few of the bikers that frequent the club; they speak highly of this place and the work they do on the machines brought to them in need of help.

The first sign of trouble is that the lovely looking purple-chased black bike comes rolling up without the sound of a roaring engine. Instead, a tall mocha-skinned woman with astounding curves poured into painted-on beaded jeans, an off-white t-shirt, and a purple-accented black leather jacket is holding the bike by the handles and walking it in. Rather an ignominous approach for such a machine. Once close enough, she boot-stomps the kickstand down into place, and then lets go of the handles and walks towards the front of the place, looking around for the first free mechanic she can see.

Robbie turns his head to the beauty that walks into his autoparts store. Cleaning his hands off from some oil that spilled on him, Robbie wears a gray t-shirt with company-issue pants and shoes. He has a watch on his wrist, but his classic leather jacket with the white decal on the front is hanging on a hook near the break broom. She'd see him first. In fact, he seems to be the only one there. Did theo ther workers decide to slack off or is Robbie just that damn good?

But he walks over to her as he notices the bike and he gives it an appraising look…before he gives the rider an equally appraising look. "Hello miss. Welcome to the shop, name's Robbie, how can I help you?"

The woman, when she speaks, definitely has an accent. It's one of those that is hard to pin down; South, definitely, but with all sorts of things all mixed in. Creole, hints of Mexican Spanish. Just a melange. But damn if it isn't smokily sexy, like the rest of her. "Hi, Robbie. Honestly, you could best help me by maybe helping my baby." She gestures to the bike. "She's hurting, Robbie, and not in any way I know how to help." She then extends her hand, heedless of his recently oiled state. "I'm Priscilla, by the way. Most just call me Pris."

"Priscilla, huh? Beautiful name." Robbie flirts with her. Yes, he can definitely see every single sexy curve of her, and her voice just enhances that by a million. Though she might sense something…supernatural when they touch. Was Robbie a demon? Or was something just residing in him? Who knows. But he looks at her ride. "Well, I can certainly try and give your baby the proper medication to help it feel better."

He also has a bit of an accent. California mexican? Either way, when he speaks, Priscilla might have some competition in that game.

"Before I start investigating it, whats been wrong? Engine break down? handling off?"

After they shake hands, Priscilla turns her head momentarily and sneezes, then rubs her nose and shakes her head. She can tell there's something mystical and magical about the guy, but not really what, in particular. She's not picking up that he's being ridden by anything, so she lets it go for now. Nothing wrong with a little magic in your mechanic, right?

"First thing t'happen was the engine got real rough. Nasty rough, coughing, almost choking. Then the handling started going wonky. That's why I walked her in." Pris answers, smiling up at Robbie now. She can flirt happily, now that she's sure her bike is going to get help.

She sneezes and he doesn't mind. "Bless you." He wasn't particularly religious, but its the social norm to say to someone nearby that sneezes. Bless the sickness away! But when she seems to smile at him, he maintains eye contact with her, maybe even walking a little close to her when he walks past. Perhaps implying that he's open and accepting of her flirting.

He kneels down and starts working on the bike, taking it apart. "I'll see what I can do about it then. Usually its an easy fix." But then he notices something about it and he whistles. "This is a hoverbike. Didn't think I'd see one of these in my shop. Usually, most people would think this is a bit out of their depth but thankfully, I'm not most people." He puts on his gloves and gets a wrench and starts getting to work.

"So, Priscilla, how on earth did you get your hands on a motorbike? I mean, I like a sexy with a sexy bike, but these things are damned near hard to make and get." Robbie flirts with her shamelessly, while also asking her a genuine question. Might as well have fun with it.

Priscilla saunters over to lean against a convenient bit of wall or the like and watch Robbie work, enjoying those flexing glutes and the like. She is not shy. "I don't hover with it all the time. It runs normal, too." Which is where the problem is. If Robbie thinks about it, he'll quickly realize she must have hovered it in, and then turned that off to walk it in the rest of the way.

"It was a gift, from friends of mine a few years ago." Priscilla answers. "They were really special. But … they're gone, now. I don't even know where. But I still have the bike." And maybe a lot more than the bike, but she doesn't mention anything else. "I'm glad you're OK working on it, even though it's not normal. Seriously." That eases that sense of haunted sadness in her tone

Robbie doesn't seem to mind being checked out. If there's attraction, its definitely mutual. But Robbie looks away from the hoverbike as he indoes think about the problem. Must be with the hoverbike core and it being unreliable. So he further examines that for a specific problem, taking out a few parts so he can get to it easier.

When she speaks of a special friend, he peeks out of the workway and he gives a small nod. "I'm sorry. You can talk to me about it if you want. And really, of course I'm willing to help." he smiles warmly at her, before he gets right back to work.

Pris shrugs her shoulders, with predictable side effects. Or front effects. "I appreciate the offer. But … I don't think there's anything much to be done." She's not going to bring up that they were the closest thing she'd ever had to a family, and then there was a mission, a giant explosion, and she hasn't seen any of the guardians in years, and no signs of them either. What's the point?

"I love the bike, though, and I want to keep it going." the mocha-skinned beauty offers. "I heard good things about your work from folks at the club where I dance. So I brought her here for help."

"You dance?" Robbie asks her. Somehow, she just got like…a billion times more amazing. So he looks at her for a minute. "Heh, maybe if I get lucky I'll be able to watch you dance one of these days. Or dance with you. Whichever sounds better in your head." Robbie chuckles. and yes, he did get a good peak at the effects her form was giving.

"Then I'll do my best to make this puppy go again. Speaking of which….aaand…" something seems to go 'fwooo'. "There. Okay." Robbie starts putting stuff back into place. "Care to rev it up and see what happens?"

"Yep." Pris answers, giving Robbie a wink. "I'm a headliner right now at the Obsidian on the Lower East." She happily explains. It's not hard to imagine this woman would be an amazing dancer. She really is a major headliner. "If you get my baby fixed, I'll sign you on my guest list. That'll get you in without a cover." Still a two-drink minimum, but it'll also get him VIP treatment by the rest of the staff.

Once Robbie tells her to check it out, Pris steps up and straddles the bike. She arms it with the key and a switch. Then she hops and stomps on the starter. The engine roars up to life, coughing forcefully, blowing out dark smoke … and then it roars and evens out, the exhaust cleaning up. "Wow! Way to go! That was fast!"

Robbie watches that long leg as it swings over one side of the bike, and he stands back to watch her turn it on. Holy shit, he was right! Robbie exhales lightly. "Hey, anytime. Told ya, this is my specialty. I could mod it for you to try and make it go faster, if you want."

As for her dancing, he smirks. "Well…I would be more than happy to watch you dance. Or I could take you out here in a few to the local dance club. Not obsidian, but I think its pretty nice." Yes, he totally asked her out and he's not ashamed of it. She was kind, beautiful, and had a sweet ride. "Either way, thanks for the invite." he winks at her.

Priscilla beams happily, almost seeming to pur along with her now smoothly running bike. "I don't usually get nights off. But Monday and Tuesday, if that place is open, I could enjoy dancing off stage." A rather different experience, that, but one she used to enjoy a lot. Why not give it another try? She's no nun, and never has been.

"How muh do I owe you, Robbie?" Pris asks. She's quite prepared to pay for his expertise and help. And if that gives her a chance to give him her number, or get his, so much the better.

Robbie looks at her with a smile. "Good to know, I'll be sure to scoop you up and show you my ride for a change." Man, the flirting was unending. It had a double-meaning, but he explains. "I have a 1969 Dodge Charger. Fixed it up myself. You want Horsepower, I'll let you check it out one of these days."

When she speaks of payment, Robbie lifts a hand. "Maybe a phone number and a kiss for the chef?" It seems the latter part he was mostly just joking, but its up for Priscilla to figure it out for herself. He saw his chance to get her digits, and dammit he's taking it.

"Awww, Robbie, honey, I'd give you the numbers for free. Seriously, you should be paid for your work." Priscilla offers. Hey, she doesn't dance on stage for free, he shouldn't fix her bike for free. It's the principle of the thing. Just don't ask her dyslexic arse to spell it! Pris is happy to get out her phone and exchange numbers, and if that gives her a chance to also send him money for his work, so be it! "Sounds like a beautiful car."

"Well, I'll take your number then, I'll give you mine too." He offers her his phone in return for hers, so she could probably take a funny, silly, or just hot selfie with it if she felt like being creative with her contact information. But Robbie gives a simple smile as he selfies and he gives a little grin to her. "There you go. And damn right, its a beautiful car." If she REALLY wanted to pay him, she absolutely could do it via phone. Its a $300 fee. Likely because he was dealing with something alien. But perhaps now its clear why he didn't want to charge her for something that clearly meant a lot to her.

But alas, looksl ike no kiss for the chef. Oh well.

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