Mark materializes out of the shadows of Harbor Park, headed towards southtown at a slow amble, when he happens on this scene. A mischievous grin crosses his face, and he slows his pace to remain an audience member for just a fraction longer.

Anneka is standing on her toes, skateboard behind her back as she leans over to watch Nevada wrestle the car's battery into place. Her bangs have drifted down in curly locks over her green eyes, but she looks curious.

A little muffled, Kaz explains, "Preliminary scouting." Well, ok, maybe it's not an explanation. There's a faint banging noise from somewhere near the muffler, and a foot twitches. "Ow."

Max pushes away from her scouting spot to move up beside Nevada and silently pointing out the connections before asking Anneka, "You know how t'wire a ride, Streetfish?"

Anneka shakes her head twice, hair bobbing about in a mane. "No," she says, a corner of her mouth turning up in a faint smile. "Dunno how t'drive, neither."

"Careful," Nevada's saying. "This bitch could just up an fall apart." The street hood pauses, then amends,"Lady." He finishes settling in the battery, looking at it, a pinch creasing between his eyes. He pushes on the battery, making sure it's firmly in there. "C'mon, baby," he says, wiping some dust. "You're gonna work, aite? Work good for me. OK?" He crosses around to the driver's side, before he climbs in. The keys are snatched off the dash and stabbed into the ignition. A pathetic engine noise follows.

Kaz mutters, "Fuck, /I/ could fall apart," as she wiggles out from under the car. "An' since when'm I a lady? Christ on a roto rooter..." She trails off, as she dusts her hands off and scrambles to her feet.

Max sets her hands on her hips, now and then glancing to the engine to watch Nevada's progress, but mostly regarding Anneka. "Shit, chica. That's just messed /up/." A glance to her packmate as he moves around to try starting the car and when he's obscured from view she fiddles with one of the connections, tightening it a little before looking back to Anneka. "Hatchet gonna teach you that lesson?" A little louder. "Try it again, Axe-Face!"

"What's messed up?" Bernie asks, as she wanders down the street toward the Rialto and gets detoured by her packmates and the recalcitrant beast, "...hey."

Anneka's smile draws up a bit more into a proper sort of grin, and she tucks her hands in her pockets. "Mom 'n dad didn't have a car," she says, then looks off towards Nevada inside the Mystery Machine. "Um-- dunno?"

And as Bernie closes the distance, Mark moves to follow, coming up behind her to the left. There's an air of curiosity surrounding him as he looks on at whatever it is the group is trying to do to this car.

"Hatchet sure is, when his baby starts workin' again," is the groan from the driver's side. "Come on, come on! Make daddy proud, baby!" More engine squealing. "Come on.. almost there..." Whudda-whudda-whudda. "Come on.. " Whudda-whudda-whummf. The key turns noiselessly now, and a sick, sad silence emanates from the driver's side. Then: "This is fuckin' it, honey. My new ghetto yomobile? Gaan to be a Barbie fuckin powerwheels."

Max smirks, listening ot Nevada's cajoling, then leaning toward Anneka to mutter, "S'the most action he sees, playin' mechanic, f'ya know what I mean." Her eyes are mockingly baleful. "But he's /happy/." Smirking she looks settles back against the front of the open yaw of the car to look from Bernie to Mark. She lifts two fingers in a peace sign to her arriving packmate then puckers a silent kiss at the Get, looking him over as if the mere look were a challenge to his presence.

Kaz sidles back toward the alley's walls, though on the way she actually notices Bernie and heads that way instead. She stops abruptly as she discovers Mark, as well, and asks the two of them, "/You/ know anything about cars?" She's not nearly as hostile toward the Get as might be expected.

Bernie grins, shrugging. "Well. They gen'rally got four wheels an' run on internal combustion," she offers, "An' vinyl upholst'ry is a bitch in th' summer. Don't s'pose that helps any, huh?" She arches an eyebrow toward the Get, and continues on carward, pushing her curls back and twisting them into a temporary bun. "She on th' critical list or somethin'? 'cause 'least I know 'nough t' know that sounds wrong."

Well, well, well. What has our little skinhead blundered his way into, today. There are at least three familiar faces, and the unfamiliar ones can probably be deduced even by the philodox' limited mental capacities. The crisp accent of his English is paused momentarily as eyes darken towards Max, then defer to Kaz. "Evenin'," he starts.

Anneka leans a bit towards Max, grinning, then looks up, brushing her hair away from her eyes. The Get, well, he gets something of a curious glance, the kid's eyes drifting quickly over to Bernie. She waves. "Hey, hi!"

Nevada's blond head pokes out the open door, taking note of Stomper and the skinhead. He hadn't seen the guy before, and makes up for it now with an open stare. Then he's out of the car, crossing around to the front. He stands so his back isn't all the way shown, starting to screw around with the battery again. Maybe if he takes it out and puts it back in, the other way. His walkman batteries work like that.

Max doesn't move out of the way from her perch on the front of the car, but that doesn't seem to be a problem since Bernie's already there and Nevada works at the engine from the side. Max's gaze flickers from Mark to Kaz as well and she arches a brow mildly at the alpha from behind her stringy bangs.

Kaz says, "Well, it's the Mystery Machine. When /ain't/ it on the critical list?" To Mark, she nods, slightly. "Evenin'. Cars?"

Mark acknowledges the question with a simple grunt. He looks it over slowly, "What's wrong with it?"

"It's a piece of shit," Nevada answers. Seeing that some elaboration may be necessary, the hood adds: "Battery's dead. New one won't work." He resettles it in there, then tacks on,"Yet."

Anneka turns about to look at the car's engine again. Her skateboard's tucked under an arm, the nose just bumping against a green side panel. Her eyes widen a bit as she watches Nevada.

Mark suggests to Nevada, "Have you thought about asking it 'why not'?"

Max remains where she's perching, back to watching Mark again. Aside to Anneka, she asks quietly, "You met the English muffin yet?"

Kaz shrugs. "I know from cars? I can barely drive, let alone fix one." She takes several steps backwards, to find the alley wall, and leans against it. Studying him, she adds, mostly to herself, "I think that means no."

Bernie hehs, and leans over near Nevada, surveying the car's innards curiously. It's hard to tell if she's looking for anything in particular, or just kind of thinking how nifty car innards look. "...I like this view better when they're not tryin' t' jump out an' kill me," she remarks, gesturing to various cables. Mark's question gets her attention, and she glances over to him.

Slowly, Nevada's dead-nickel eyes shift and turn and plant on Mark. "English muffin?" is what he says.

The cub's eyes dart off towards Mark, then to Max. She nods. "Uh-huh." There's a spark of a grin, and she starts humming, faint against the city's din. Do you know the Muffin Man?

Mark follows up to the group, but stares at Max as he does it, "I mean, the way it looks to me, you're all friends of Dorothy's, here." He gestures to Kaz, "Else she wouldn't allow you access to her auto." A question, now, "Am I mistaken?"

Kaz starts to unravel the assumptions made in just two sentences, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "It ain't /my/ car. But these're all my crew, yeah. 's your point?"

Max snorts quietly, elbowing Anneka appreciatively before looking over to Mark. "You ain't mistaken, Muffin. We's all on the same pit crew." She tosses a look Kaz's way, then flickers a glance at Nevada and shrugging.

Mark steps over to the Mystery Machine, running a hand along the fender. "You should ask her. Ask the car what's wrong."

Bernie smirks, and turns to Kaz, wide-eyed, "Dorothy? Man, y'mean we're messin' with this car, an' alla time you coulda jus' clicked your ruby slippers?" She eyes Kaz accusingly, hands on her hips, trying not to grin and failing.

Kaz looks down at her battered boots, then back up at Bernie. "I think they'd just take me t'th' junkyard." She tilts her head at Mark. "I c'n talk t'/animals/..."

"'cause we would never hear the end a her bitching, is why," Nevada answers finally. His sizing-up of Muffin Man done, the Galliard grunts and pushes his dirty hands through his hair. "Nobody here can. An we got to get her goin again, or it's the impound lot. I don't got any papers. I don't even fuckin exist. I -- am definitely gettin a fuckin powerwheels."

Anneka casts a sidelong glance to Max, grinning as she leans on the Ragabash for a moment, nudging her back. Then she's looking at the car with a certain wide-eyed curiosity. She leans forward again, peering down into the engine. "Hello?"

Mark studies the group, "Not a godi among you, eh? -- Alright, fine. Look, it's just part of the Machine, same as anything else around here. Learn her language, and this will be a lot easier." He looks into the hood. "This battery got any juice in it?"

"Should," Nevada answers. "Brand spankin new." He smears grease on his wifebeater when he folds his arms.

Kaz says, a little sourly, "Well, not /yet/, no," but watches the Get curiously.

Mark looks between Nevada and Kaz impatiently, "Which is it? Yes or no?"

"No," Nevada says. "Not a one."

Kaz snorts. "I was sayin' we ain't got a Godi. He was sayin' it's got juice. In theory."

Bernie steps over a bit, and leans back against the wall to watch, hands in her jacket pockets.

Mark can, at times, become easily confused. When he does, his face tends to get red, particularly his ears and nose. That's happening now. Kaz' explaination goes some way towards mollifying him. "Does it click over?" -- "The starter go?"

Anneka looks like she's just dying to ask what a certain unfamiliar word means, but she holds her tongue for the moment, leaning back against the car. Her skateboard's tail thumps against weatherworn metal, quiet, her blocky shoes scuffing against asphalt.

Nevada altogether doesn't seem so brilliant either. He nods his head. "The thing -- yeah."

Down the street comes Jeremy, eyes downcasted to his feet, shouldering what seems to be a notebook carrying bag. His steps are slow, seemingly dragging, having a tired expression upon his face.

"You lads are sure on that, now? When I walked up here, I heard it chug and chug and then die," Mark asks again. He looks towards the one in the driver's seat about ready to bark an order when company arrives on Elson, and he looks up, and to the pack at large.

Kaz doesn't seem to know Jeremy, but nor does she seem hugely suspicious. "Like I said, Mark, what I know from cars would fit in a thimble."

Bernie considers. "It could maybe be th' alternator," she volunteers, "that's what it was when my dad's car wouldn' start." She eyes the engine from where she leans against the alley wall and adds, "Though, I got no idea where that'd =be= in there, t' be honest."

"I'm pretty sure," Nevada replies. Granted, his idea of starter is something you wear, but cars can't be so hard. "Maybe 'fy I jus got trine again." He tosses his head, then climbs back into the driver's seat.

Hearing the voices in the distance, just passing by, Jeremy turns his head and glances over them idly from behind his glasses. Wetting his lips, the short lived gesture lasts for an instant as he continues to walk, shrugging the heavy bag over his shoulder.

Anneka's bright green eyes drift off towards Jeremy, then back to the car and Nevada. She takes a step away from it, then turns about to watch the engine. A bit of a smile starts to stir the corners of her mouth, and she gives the car a thumbs-up.

Mark holds up a hand and does bark, "Hey, now. Don't get your knickers in a twist, just yet." He investigates, "The solenoid's making good contact. Timing belt looks to be alright. You got a screwdriver?"

Apparently, Kaz has everything except the kitchen sink in her coat pockets, since she produces a medium size one from one of the larger pockets, and hands it to him, handle towards him.

Mark looks up to take the tool and the glance the Get throws the Galliard begs the question: Who's head has this been shoved into? Without even a grunt by way of thanks, he starts to unscrew the big air filter sitting on top of the carberator.

His view obstructed by the open hood, Nevada glances out the door for a look. In doing so, he spots Jeremy, though it takes a brief moment for recognition to percolate in his head. "Hey, Jerry," is the quiet, grunted greeting as he passes.

Max slips off the car, and with a glance to Kaz and a whisper to Anneka, she heads out of the alley, around the corner and out of sight.

Pausing, Jeremy glances over to the alley and squints his eyes through the pair of wire rimmed glasses. Noticing Nevada, he lifts a hand to slightly wiggle his fingers in a 'hello' gesture, unsure if he should stop and say something. Then, after a moment's thought, he says in the usual soft voice, eyes shifting to each in turn. "Um.. Hullo.."

Anneka grins, turns about to wave to Max as she leaves. "Rar," she says, then looks about over to Jeremy. She grins at the fellow, tilts her head slightly. "Hi."

The look Kaz returns to Mark seems completely innocent. Which must mean it's not. Max's departure brings her attention back to the Ragabash, though, and she mutters, "Later," in her general direction, before giving Jeremy an interested look.

"See what I mean?" Nevada says to Jerry, James, Jury, whatever the hell his name is, leaning half-out the car. "Got the new battery an the bitch still won't go."

Mark finishes removing the air-filter, popping up from under the hood to hand it to someone -- anyone -- nearby with a Neandrathallic "Here." He doesn't even bother to add the 'hold this', just thrusts it into the nearest person's hands. Then he goes to work on the carberator.

Squinting his eyes, Jeremy takes a deep breath and steps into the alley, glancing from one Garou to the other. Looking to be a bit on edge, nervous. He slips up near Nevada who he knows, kind of -- then peers a bit into the car. "..MMm.... Well.." He starts, working his teeth along his bottom lip in thought. "MMmm..k... Ahh.."

Anneka ends up with the air filter, which she regards as if it were a peculiar sort of sea creature, drawn up from the abyssal depths. She turns it about in her hands, thoroughly dirty in short order.

Kaz goes back to leaning against a building wall, quiet.

Bernie flashes a quick, friendly grin at the kid with glasses, and takes a step from the wall to take the air filter as it's blindly shoved outward, but pauses as Anneka ends up with it instead. She gives it a curious look and leans in a little farther to watch the work.

Half expecting tech boy to run away at any moment now, Nevada affords him a glance. A twinge of amusement appears briefly in his annoyed expression, before his eyes cut away to the skin-headed Get working on the Chevy.

As Jeremy peers into the hood as well, Mark stops and asks, "Who's this talk drink of water?"

"Huh?" Jeremy asks as Mark talks, not understanding the line of mixed up English. "Water?" Quirking up a brow, he glances over to Nevada and swallows deeply. "You.. um.. hooked up the battery wrong." He says softly to the Gnawerly thug, leaving it at that.

"Guy I know," Nevada remarks indifferently, getting to what he wants to say now: "What you mean hooked up wrong?"

Kaz tells Mark, "If it helps, he ain't my crew," and slides down the wall into a seat.

Anneka draws a filthy hand through her hair, leaving smudges here and there. She doesn't seem to notice, though as she wanders over to flop down near Kaz in a crosslegged heap. Her skateboard gets set on her lap.

Mark grunts again, in response to the information. "Got any petrol?" is his next question.

"Uh, yeah," Nevada responds. "Should be some in there. Some in the trunk."

Kaz leans into the cub, companionably. "S'how you doin'?"

Mark quips, short. "Get it. Like half a pint."

Bernie waves a hand negligently at Nevada as she pushes up partway from where she's leaning on the edge of the car. "Nah, hang tight. I'll get it." She strolls around to the boot and opens it, whether it feels much like opening or not, leaving it that way as she returns, dangling the gascan.

Jeremy shakes his head slowly no to Mark's question, then takes a quick step away from the hood, sighing dejectedly. "Um.. Its just.. not hooked up right.." He says to Nevada, voice stammering off a bit. "Uhm.. Its. um.... " Glancing to the battery again, he simply reaches in and starts to fiddle with the battery hook ups, clearing his throat.

Anneka leans back with a quiet 'whuf' and blinks at her hands, holds them out to look at, palms up. "Mimsy," she says, then smiles. "Doin' good. Been out around a lot, checkin' stuff out and-- Oh, hadda question, too--" She leans over a bit more to whisper to Kaz.

Bernie glances over to Jeremy, and shrugs. "Yeah, well, he had it hooked up th' other way b'fore an' it di'n' work, so that prolly isn' it, not that it hurts t' have it right." She half-smiles, setting the can aside.

Kaz mutters, "With the borogroves?" and then leans in to listen. A faint look of anything from anger to annoyance flicks across her face.

Mark retrieves the can from Bernie and gives it a shake to listen and see if there's any in there. He looks over to the kinfolk for a second before he takes up the carborator he's removed and pours some gas over it to clean it out. He checks in with Jeremy, "You set?"

Anneka blinks twice. "Oh!" Then she ducks her head and goes back to whispering.

Nevada still sits in the driver's side, turned, his long legs to the ground. He leans on the car door, looking out, watching the rough-looking Get and the little stick figure with glasses. He might be curious.

After a bit more of fiddling, Jeremy glances over to Mark and nods slowly, silently.

Mark replaces the carberator and screws it down. He primes it with just a little bit of gas, the remainder of which sloshes over the inside of the engine and quickly evaporates. "Try it now."

Kaz nods slowly.

Anneka giggles faintly, leaned close to Kaz. "Yup," she says, then her voice lowers again.

Nevada leans back in, a greasy large hand on the wheel. With a half-hopeful, half-smirking expression, he turns the keys. The engine squeals once, again, and then comes alive with a powerful vroom. The Galliard sinks back, then punches the air. "All fuckin right!"

Anneka sits up straight, then stands, jumping up and down as the car starts. "Yay, cool!"

Kaz yells, from her seat, "Rockin'!" Then she levers herself up and grins quietly at the bouncing cub.

Mark looks over to Anneka to retrieve the air filter. "Kill it a second, I'll put this back on."

Jeremy watches the car come to life and shifts a bit on his feet, a slight smile tugging at the ends of his lips. Ahh..highschool shop class. Wiping his hands off on his jeans, he shrugs the bag again and turns to head out of the alley.

Anneka dashes over with the air filter, casting a grin to the Get as she sets it in his hands. "Here y'go."

Kaz calls, before he's quite out of sight, "Thanks, kid."

Bernie grins, and reclaims the can of gas, closing it firmly and carting it back to the trunk. She closes it after, and bops back around to pull up a patch of wall near Kaz and the cub. "Nice," she remarks, "...All sing praises t' Muffin th' Mighty Mechanic. Heh."

Nevada twists the ignition, letting the Mystery Machine settle down a second. He leans back out for a look. "So she's fixed, then? Rock." To Jerry, he sends a grin and a yell,"Hey, man. Thanks." So maybe the stick figure techie is all right.

Mark makes quick work with replacing the filter smoothly screwing it back on and connecting it up. While the engine's off he pulls out the dipstick to check the oil, as well. As he returning Kaz' screwdriver, he tells the young Skald, "You're down at least two quart on oil." -- "And the radiator could use topping off." Bernie's moniker, well, to be honest it was Max' moniker for him first, does little to lighten his mood, even with the success with the Machine.

Anneka grins and waves to Jeremy, dirty hands and all.

A shy smile is returned back to the group as Kaz and Nevada call back, but then quickly dropped as he rounds the corner out of sight. He sucks in a deep sigh of relief, trying to stop his trembling as he hurries himself down the sidewalk.

Kaz mutters something to Anneka under her breath, and then tells Mark, "You're a marvel, dude. Thanks."

"Go grease lightning you're burning up the quarter mile," Nevada sings some praises all right. "Thanks, man. What a'you called?"

Anneka sits back down near Bernie and Kaz and nods, her voice low again.

Mark shrug is not one of modesty. He's just not particularly thrilled with accepting the praise of a metis, a Gnawer metis at that. So rather than something more formal, he just turns it around, responding to Kaz cryptically, "You would have done the same." "Mark Pryce," he answers Nevada with some degree of formality. "Fenris' judge. Used to run with Cockroach." Before he turns to head off back into the city.

Kaz allows, "Well, if it was somethin' I /knew/ about..." and leaves it there before crouching down to nod at Anneka. Uneasy truces are like that.

"Nick Statton," the hood calls after him. "Later. An' thanks again." That said, he leans back in the seat, for a moment just relishing the beaten-up little car.

Anneka stretches out into a huge yawn, leaning back against the alley's wall, then nods to Kaz. There's a small grin, though, as she nudges Bernie lightly with her skateboard.

Bernie waves after him with a wriggle of fingers and a slightly overbright grin. "Ta!" she calls after, before returning her attention to the cub. "So hey," she greets her, "how goes, small one?"

Mark makes his way into the large, open meadow to the east.

Anneka blinks twice and looks back to Bernie, then grins. "Do you know the Muffin Man?"

Kaz says, "/Ex/actly," at Anneka, and settles down into her seat again.

Bernie grins back. "Th' muffin man?" she muses. "...th' muffin man... oh yeah. I know th' muffin man. He lives in Drury Lane," she declares, deadpan, before the grin wins again.

Anneka rocks back on her rear, bumping against the alley wall and laughs, grinning at Bernie. "He's bald, too. And can fix cars. 's goin' okay."

After pulling the trunk release, Nevada's out of the car, looking over things before he slaps down the hood. Then, he commences to heft up the old battery and gyrate his way around the car. He sets the heavy black box down into the trunk, starts to close it, stops -- pulls a six pack of Cokes out from under a duffel bag -- and then stamps it shut. "So," he says finally,"You ladies wanna ride?"

Anneka draws a dirty hand through her hair and grins at Nevada. "Sure!"

Kaz levers herself back to her feet. "Sir," she says, bowing slightly to him, "I would be unutterably pleased to ride in your chariot." She just barely manages not to grin.

"I dunno," Bernie replies, reaching back and flicking her hair back out the bun. The curls tumble back into their usual places. "I mean, I'm not s'posta take rides with strange guys, y'know? 'spec'ly if they're drinking." She gestures at the coke, and tuts disapprovingly. "...still, hey, if everyone else's doin' it."

Anneka, the finer points of accepting rides lost on her, dashes over to Nevada, arms out. She scuffs to a stop a short distance off though, smiling. "Vroom!"

Nevada beams a big all American smile. He reaches in to unlock the back door, then holds it open, as gentlemanly as a greasy hooligan in a wifebeater could possibly be. That's pretty gentlemanly. "Well, get your hoodrat asses in, then." That wasn't.

Anneka's eyes get huge. She dashes back to scoop her skateboard and satchel up, then scrambles back to climb into the car.

Bernie grins. "Someday," she remarks as she slides in, "I gotta getcha t' teach me how t' drive this thing. Yeah?" Her backpack ends up on her lap as she slithers into a seat beside the cub.

Nevada messes up Bernie's hair before he closes the door, hopping into the driver's side. He doesn't hold the door open for Kaz, no, but he does lean over to pop hers open. And she's the first one to get a pick of Cokes. And music, but only if it's loud.

Kaz seems to like loud music. And Cokes. And men who pop doors open for her. "He'd be a damn sight better teacher'n /me/, thass f'sure..."