carter bennett ( human ) . (solepurpose) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-12-20 01:05:00 |
|
|||
Who: Carter and Halne.
Where: A gas station just outside town.
When: Late evening.
No matter how much time he spent in America he never got used to the idea of someone else filling the tank for him. It had struck him as so odd when he’d first been accosted in a station in New Jersey by an overeager employee who’d tried to insist on doing the job for him only to find he wasn’t giving ground and it was a fight they just couldn’t win. Carter had insisted right back, firmly, and refused to relinquish control to a perfect stranger, pleasant as they might have been in the beginning. That had confused them, perhaps even frustrated them a little he knew, but the simple fact of the matter was that Carter liked to be in control. Whether it was in a fight with a supernatural he intended to kill or at a gas station pumping gas, he liked to be holding the proverbial reins for himself. Control was important, that was one of the first lessons Bennett children learned when they were set on the path towards becoming hunters and it was one Carter had taken to heart early on and never forgotten, not even for a moment.
Michigan, it seemed, was a state that seemed perfectly comfortable with the idea of customers pumping their own gas, a fact for which he was inwardly grateful as he turned the wheel and steered the black truck he was currently in possession of into one of the open bays. It was relatively quiet out here, far enough from the town proper that people only stopped if they absolutely needed to, there were only two other customers that he could see and two -- perhaps three if there was another around back out of sight -- employees, one inside and one outside with a broom in hand. Carter didn’t waste much time watching them go about their business, they were clearly focused on something and he didn’t see anything suspicious about their behaviour. For now.
Keys in hand he pushed open the door and stepped out of the truck, drawing in a deep breath laced with the powerful scents of petrol and diesel and exhaust fumes. Travelling as much as he -- and the rest of his family -- did it was a cocktail of smells that no longer truly bothered Carter but he still noticed it, he wasn’t immune, and it was just as unpleasant now as it had been the first time he’d breathed it in years ago, thousands of miles away.
Pulling his mind out of the past he removed the fuel cap, going through the motions as only someone who spent a lot of their time on the road could, barely even needing to pay any attention to what their hands were doing as his gaze roamed the station once again and he thought several steps ahead to his next task. Always think ahead. Another one of those early lessons that Carter had taken to heart and never forgotten. Not even for a moment.