From south to north, the buildings shift from small, two- or three-story offices with delicatessens, ice cream shops selling homemade ice cream, and similar types of small specialty shops on the first floor to, first, a few old-fashioned inns, and then a small park on the western side of 15th, south of Market Street. Less than fifty yards to a side, there is a curving path in it, and a few park benches, and a small grassy place used, to guess by the poles, for volleyball or badminton. North of that, between Market and Osprey, are old houses, mansions almost, with metal gates and walls to set them back from the street. Along the street itself, tall trees tower, cutting off much of the light that should reach the ground, excepting a small strip in the center of the roadway itself from which the sky can be seen. Farther north, where 15th joins Osprey itself, there are a few condominium buildings, with carefully sculpted bushes around them.
Compact is the word for him: wiry, maybe 5'6" in his beat-up black combat boots, with a sense of compressed energy and imminence like a coiled spring -- or a cocked gun. Never quite still for long, balance flowing through the balls of his feet. There's a striking intensity to his narrow blue-green eyes, the colour contrasting with his fair skin and spiky copper hair; just below the left is what at first appears to be a faint mole, but closer inspection reveals as a small, long-healed scar. His features are appealing, with high cheekbones and a good jawline, but it's the confident mein and roguish smile that most often seem to draw people in.
He's in old black jeans with the rip in one knee and the cuffs half walked off, today with a blue t-shirt bearing the superman logo, the print very faded and the fabric looking thin enough that it may have genuinely gotten that way through time and not retro-merchandising. The shirt's rather snug in a flattering sort of way. Over it he's wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, unbuttoned, with a scattered pattern of tiny blue and red dolphins; he's also in possession of a pair of white plastic wayfarer-style sunglasses with iridescent indigo lenses. There's a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a length of ball-chain disappearing beneath his collar; his nails were apparently painted black some time ago, since they're starting to show chips. Late teens, most likely, and when he speaks it's in a mellifluous, southern-accented baritone voice.
Shaggy brown hair and darker brown eyes frames this young boy's face. Justin has a slightly tanned complexion with a hint of Puerto Rican from his mother's side, Caucasian from his father's. He has a fairly lanky build that could use a bit of bulking upas he is built like a high school track runner. He wears loose fitted 'destroyed' blue jeans, simple tank tops, and worn down sneakers that are about five months in need of replacement, and during the cold, a thick green military jacket from his Grandpa. He looks like your average, ordinary American young teen that plays outside and is fairly active. Tall at five foot ten, he is a few inches higher than most his age for now.
Thick honey-blonde hair, styled in a poofy set of curls, rings this pretty blue-eyed young woman's head. She's in her late teens, and her hair's currently left down, though it's occasionally pinned up. She stands about five and a half feet tall, and is a little on the thin side of things, though not to an extreme. She dresses mostly in informal styles, from ripped jeans and tank tops to the occasional sundress.
Currently, she wears the former, her black tank top emblazoned with a large sequined red heart, and her jeans so ripped as to be nearly indecent. About half of the heart's sequins are missing. Her feet are clad in red strappy lightly-heeled sandals that have seen better days. She wears little in the way of jewelry, just a black wooden bracelet, a stainless steel and rhinestone mood ring, and (probably fake) gold earrings. When she speaks, a fairly thick Southern accent is evident.
It's a pretty nice neighbourhood, really, which makes the poor booted Caddy stand out all the more. It's a mid-'70s Cadillac Eldorado convertible, nearly equal parts a very decade-appropriate olive and unpainted bondo, and it is an absolute boat. The top is currently up, and from the outside everything at least looks relatively functional. There's no license plate on the front, and the one on the back claims it hails from Alabama; there's at least two tickets tucked under one of the wipers. And, of course, there's the boot. Felix mutters something darkly under his breath, shaking his head, as they approach the car and the bright yellow bit of metal comes into view.
Lilah squeezes Felix's hand lightly, giving him a smile. When they get to the Caddy, she winces just a tad at seeing the tickets. She gives a shake of her head, frustrated, but doesn't comment on it directly; instead she notes to Felix, "If the Caddy's gonna get all fixed up, I guess you're gonna have to name 'er. Or him." One side of her lips curves upward.
Lumbering after the pair confidently with a large backpack slung over his shoulders, Justin his shirtless for the warm evening, wearing a pair of sagging longboard shorts that are tied about his waist with a piece of rope. Blowing a lock of brown hair from his face, he gives a wry grin to the pair of them. "If I get this boot off, ya'gonna hold my hand too?" He smirks as he drops the backpack to the ground with a loud clank of metal. Though that question could have been posed to either of them. "Taking a boot off is fucking simple by the way. Pigs think they're all hot shit when they put them on with a lock or a key code. But, there is a simple flaw in the whole thing. I'll have it off in less than five."
"Yeah, I reckon if you're gonna help out all that much, I might could hold your hand a few minutes if it'll make you happy," Felix replies dryly, and squeezes Lilah's, instead. He gives the car's hood a gentle pat with his free hand, and nods to her: "Her. Ships an' cars an' shit're always female, right?" He moves around the car to where he can easily watch what Justin does without, he hopes, getting in the way, and leans up against the side of the vehicle. "Pigs =always= think they're hot shit," he says, "They just like fuckin' with people. Otherwise they'd do somethin' useful instead. Like," he glances down the street at one of the stores, "...run an ice cream shop. Man, that sounds tasty..." Sigh. "So, you need me to do anythin' to help out here?"
"She does seem like a 'her,' it's true," Lilah is forced to agree. "But *why* are cars always gals? I always wondered that. Ships ain't such a big mystery to me, but I couldn't tell ya why." She shrugs, then glances down the street, herself. "Now ya got me thinkin' about ice cream!" she huffs, and gives an exaggerated sigh. "So what's the simple flaw?" she asks, and then adds, "An' we appreciate you doin' this. Thank ya."
"Sure, I'll hold your hand, Felix." Justin smirks as he slides out a socket wrench from the pack pack. Sliding to his knees, he knee-walks closer to the boot, then starts to work out the first of what appears to be four screws along the inside of the yellow boot. "Right here. This attaches one part to the other. Just keep watch, make sure no cop comes that we have to waste and dispose of." He says in an all too serious tone.
Felix snorts at the 'sure', smirking back. "Ain't gonna be for my benefit," he drawls, and takes a look at the spot the screws are living in. Just in case it comes up some time again. The rest just gets a nod, and a slight shift in his lean as he keeps an eye on their surroundings. Casually. There's an extra glance at the ice cream shop now and then, thoughtful. "...I dunno why they're always chicks. They just are, I guess." He grins suddenly, looking over to Lilah, "Maybe 'cause good ones're kinda sexy and guys really like gettin' inside 'em."
Lilah leans to peek over at the boot, nodding her head as Justin explains. "Huh. Yeah, that does seem like it's a problem." She turns her head to keep an eye on their surroundings as well, and can't help but smirk at Felix's answer, her cheeks flushing just slightly. "I'm sure that's not it," she mutters.
After a few more bolts, the boot makes a loud clank against the ground as it falls in half. Sliding them off the wheel, he stuffs it into his backpack, then takes out a new license plate with current registration stickers on it. Smirking, he slips out a phillips and heads to the back of the car where he starts to go to work.
Felix's grin widens a touch at Lilah's blushing. "No? A'right, you think on it and gimme the better reason, then." He slides his free hand into his pocket and comes up with his wallet, checking the contents before getting distracted by the clank of removal. "Nice," he tells Justin sincerely, "...hey. Once that's done, you reckon we could get away with 'bout... five minutes before we head off? Wanna see 'bout gettin' us some ice cream."
"I'll think on it, an' my reason's gonna be amazin'," Lilah insists, shaking her head with amusement. But she doesn't actually put much thought into it before suggesting innocently, "Maybe it's 'cause o' them bein' so strong an' able to run right over the men who're too busy namin' boats to look out where they're goin'." She turns at the sound of the clank as well, her grin returning. "Very nice," she agrees with Felix, and then smiles over at him at the ice cream talk. She leans over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"We name 'em after girls because it's the only time a girl won't throw a fit and be a bitch when we wanna take her out to a place 'we' want to go to." Justin calls out from the back of the car as he replaces the license plate, then puts it into his backpack as well. Leave nothing behind, not even the sockets. "I'd still move the car though, get it off the street in case someone is rolling by soon to put eyes on it."
"Mmm... nah. Nothin' essentially feminine 'bout bein' strong an' steamrollin' people," Felix decides, "I mean, ain't sayin' that's dudes only either, just kinda unisex..." Any other consideration on the topic is derailed by Justin's suggestion, which gets a snicker. "All in all I'm standin' by my theory." The car-moving gets a shrug and a nod. "A'right, figure you know the odds 'round here better'n I do yet. How far you reckon we need to get right away, then? Might not be worth aimin' for the ice cream =here=, dependin'." He gives Lilah a quick kiss in return and then lets go of her hand so he can fiddle with the car and get the top down while Justin finishes cleaning up.
"Nat'rally, I'm stickin' by my theory, too. An' I bet Justin here's standin' by his. We're gonna have to find us a encyclopedia 'r somethin' to settle this." Lilah grins, then adds, "I could throw my vote, an' choose one o' y'all's theories, but I think we all know what side I'd end up on. Just don't seem right." She moves to try and help get the top down, and muses, "I wonder why some stuff gets female names, an' other stuff just gets 'it.' Seems like a raw deal for the 'its.'"
"Yeah, don't want Felix getting jealous of you taking my side." Justin smirks as he shoulders his bag. "I'd say take the car down into our territory and drop it off behind the church after you get ice cream. That's just me though. Cops don't roll into our turf unless someone got shot up. No one would find your caddy." Crumpling up the tickets, he james them into his pocket.
Felix reaches over the door once the top's been wrangled and pops the lock. "Well, yeah, I liked that as the general plan -- though, gotta get it to your junkyard so you can find the parts an' all anyway, 'less you wanna just look at it there or whatever's easiest." He shrugs. "I dunno much 'bout fixin' cars, just boostin' 'em. But I was more askin' about the before ice cream than the after." He opens the door and makes a somewhat sweeping gesture suggesting Lilah should have a seat. The driver's, specifically.
Lilah does settle into the driver's seat, with a quick smile for the two of them. "An' I don't know even that much," she concedes. "Could always get ice cream somewheres else, after y'all push it wherever we're goin'. I feel kinda rotten, aimin' this thing while y'all do the work..."
Wrinkling his nose, Justin says, "Pop the hood real fast." He says as he ambles to the front of the car, dragging his backpack over his shoulder towards it. "Lemmie take a look at it while you try and start it."
"Well, someone's gotta aim it," Felix points out to Lilah, and nods to Justin's instructions. "That one there," he tells her, pointing to the appropriate lever, and crouches down within the still-open door. He waits for the sound of the hood popping, and being opened further, before asking, "Ready?" Once he has an affirmative, he deals with the appropriate wires under the old dash to do his part.
"True..." Lilah allows, and doesn't complain further. She nods to Felix and pops the hood, then presses back against her seat to give him better access to the wiring. Felix is giving a quick smile, and then she looks forward again, ready to do her part.
Running a hand back through his hair, Justin listens to the turn over a few times as the engine gives a choking noise, followed by a rattle. "Could be the battery, maybe a spark plug." Unzipping his bag wider, he hefts out what appears to be a portable jumper. "Got enough juice for one or two charges left. Stole it off a tower earlier today." Attaching the positive and the negative, he wheels his finger again for Felix to start the engine.
Felix does so, of course. "Y'know," he remarks idly while the testing proceeds, "reckon it might be a good idea to paint her. Ain't that many cars in these parts with her particular look, she might get recognized. Prolly oughta look into that later."
"Y'got a point," Lilah says with a nod to Felix. "It'll be a shame t'see her changed so much, but I reckon we could get her painted some even better color." She smiles at the thought, and then looks to Justin. "You sure are handy," she comments, and drums her fingertips on the wheel.
"You know, I could always just fix up one of the cars at the junkyard also." Justin says with a smirk as he watches the gauge jump along the volt meter. "Battery is fine. Thinking spark plug." He rubs his nose a bit with the back of his hand, then pokes his head deeper into the guts of the car as he rummages about. "I got plenty of those at the yard."
"What's your favourite?" Felix asks Lilah, getting up from the crouch and seating himself on the edge of the seat, legs doorward, to lean back against her a bit. Justin's first comment gets a grin, and a shrug, "...yeah, I reckon you prolly can, but c'mon, look at her. She's awesome. Otherwise I woulda just left her to the boot an' picked up somethin' else, be a lot quicker an' easier." He stands, then, kissing Lilah on the temple and heading around to look into the car-guts some himself, though he stays out of Justin's way. Just checking out what he's doing in there.
"I'm always fond o' blue tones, m'self. 'specially that periwinkle blue. How 'bout you?" Lilah smiles at the kiss to her temple, and then watches the two of them for a moment as they poke in the poor Caddy's guts. "She is somethin' else," she agrees with Felix, and actually doesn't sound disparaging.
"Sometimes you gotta dump a pretty girl to hook up with an average one who is more reliable. The parts are all original in here, which is awesome and shit-tastic at the same time. Lots of miles. Probably gonna need an engine belt if you're past a hundred thousand miles on the block." Justin works the spark plug out and gives it a sniff, then wrinkles his nose. "I got a spare in my bag but it's a band aid fix. It'll fit but it's not the one I'd wanna use." Shuffling his hand about in the bag, he pulls out another plug, then screws it in, then takes some duct-tape and holds it in place. "Okay, give it a whirl."
Felix watches the band-aiding, and gives Justin a small mock-salute before heading back over to start her up again. "Pretty big on red," he tells Lilah, "but I could go with a blue. Not periwinkle, though, practically might as well go with pink then and at least that's some weird kinda traditional. Some kinda dark or bright blue, maybe..." He reclaims the edge of the seat again, and gives the requested whirl. "...anyway, sometimes the pretty girl's worth the trouble."
"You seem like a red-color kinda guy," Lilah says with a smile. "I didn't think ya'd want periwinkle for the Caddy, nah. Not sure I'd even like that. Red sounds good, though... or a bright blue, too." She scoots over just slightly to give him a little more room, and then grins quite a bit before turning her attention to Justin, ready in case the car does start.
The engine fires up with a proud roar and Justin drops the hood down with a clank. "Got your wheels back for a few more days but that is not gonna hold. I'll fix it for realsies tomorrow at the yard. But at least you can drive it." Gathering the rest of his stuff into his bag, he throws it over his shoulder with a grunt.
"Fuckin' awesome!" Felix exclaims, beaming as the engine properly engines itself. "Thanks, man. Owe you. Even just for right now, beats pushin'." He gives Lilah a light poke to suggest she scoot even farther over and let him take that seat, and gestures to the back and the other side, "Toss your shit in the back and you can have a seat an' tell me where the hell I'm goin'." Apparently the ice cream plan can wait.
Lilah claps quietly but enthusiastically as the engine turns over, and gives Justin a bright smile. "Thank you!" She does scoot over, settling into the passenger seat, and then pats Felix's leg lightly. "Things're definitely lookin' up," she decides. "I was kinda worried when the Caddy just up 'n died, but this town's purty cool, an' ... yeah. Things. Lookin' up."
Giving a proud grin, Justin shoves his bag into the backseat, then crawls in to sit behind Lilah. "It's not that far, few miles to the junk yard. Safer to stash it there tonight so I can fix it up in the morning. Then we can roll back to the library later after you guys get ice cream." Sprawling out on his back, he thumps his head on his bag despite the numerous 'things' he has in there that are sharp and uncomfortable. No seat belt for him.
Fair enough -- no one's using one up front, either. "I'm kinda assumin' I know the general direction your junkyard's gonna be in from here, but you're gonna hafta gimme the specifics past that," Felix says, while he takes off the brake and gets in gear. Right arm stretches along the back of the seat around Lilah, and he glances fleetingly over his shoulder before pulling into what luckily can't really be described as traffic. She gets a smile, then, as he relaxes into what's clearly a familiar and comfortable position in the car, and a rather pleased "It's got its good points."
Lilah grins over at Felix, and nods her head, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "That it does," she agrees, and then turns in her seat a bit to direct her voice Justin-ward. "So you seem to know this city real well... didja grow up here, or are ya just a quick learner?"
<OOC> Justin: Need to bed, almost 1 a.m. :( But i"m hooooome all day tomorrow!