Gwenog Jones (makeit2breakit) wrote in summerview, @ 2019-02-11 20:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, daniel correlli, oksana kuznetsovich, player: lee |
February 04
Characters. Daniel Correllib & Oksana Kuznetsovich
date. February 04 | location. A Gear Loose
rating. PG-13| status. Complete
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In hindsight, Oksana figured she should've given her agent a heads up before taking one of his ridiculously "collector" cars out of its garage sanctuary and into the wilds of Jersey but – hell with it. Lorenzo had reacted to the news of her relocation to Summerview with all the melodrama of a grieving widow. The resulting phone conversation – the first one, anyway – was three hours of her life Oksana would never get back. Borrowing the silly car was poor reparation – not to mention one which clashed with her coat - but it was a start. Oksana knew little about cars (Enchanted vehicles were strenuous work and almost hopelessly passé) but she appreciated the merits of a good distraction. And the sleek '67 Ford Mustang GT, the deep green of a submerged crocodile, was certainly distracting. Especially considering the unholy noise its engine was making when she pulled into the A Gear Loose parking lot. Oksana was rather proud of the growling timber of it; she'd taken pains to Enchant the note just right. Summoned by the unholy racket of the car pulling into the parking lot, Daniel stepped out of the office clad in his mechanics jumpsuit, which he wore zipped up and layered over thermals for the weather. A dirty fleece headband lay around his neck to protect his ears from the cold along with earplugs on a cord fitted to them so they couldn’t fall off and winter gloves shoved in a pocket. Winter gloves were useless in an automotive shop, but sometimes hands got too cold and gloves were required to prevent frostbite. He might be immortal, but frostbite was awful to heal from. Crossing himself as the Mustang pulled into a space, he waited for the driver to exit the vehicle. Whoever it was clearly did not deserve a vehicle this lovely, they did not take proper care of it and that was as much of a cardinal sin to Daniel as murder. Not as delicious, but that was something else entirely. He looked the same. Oksana let the observation roll over in the calm, very deliberate blankness of her mind. She'd been fostering that blankness ever since starting the drive to the garage. Not thinking too closely about something wasn't among her natural talents, particularly not in relation to past damages, but she'd had time to practice. Thirteen years of practice to be precise. And yet here was Daniel, looking the same as he did the night of that last awful dinner… Admittedly, he hadn't been wearing the adorable headband that time. Oksana smiled and waved at Daniel through the windshield. Quit stalling, she thought. Get out, get what you came for (hopefully), and then go back to happily avoiding the fact of the man's existence. She turned off the engine, the awful noise cutting off like someone sliced its throat. "Daniel!" Oksana's smile brightened further as she got out, a small gift bag in one hand ungloved hand. "My god, look at you. You look – wow. You look like you, still." She laughed: happy and friendly. "I can't believe it. Where's the paunch and gray hair, Mr. Correlli? I was kind'a looking forward to those." “I eat a pinecone every day,” he stated seriously. It was his standard answer whenever anyone asked about why he didn’t appear to age in Summerview. It certainly wasn’t clean living with all the abuse he put his body through as a mechanic, the chemicals and oil he worked with, the alcohol he drank or the food he ate. Cholesterol was just not a concern. “It’s been a long time, Oksana,” he added, unsure if her return was a good thing or not. There had been....good reasons for her to leave when she did. And stay gone. “You look well.” "Hope it goes down easier than it comes out," Oksana said, her cheer unfaltering. She didn't go so far as to add a bounce to her step walking toward him, but there was a certain air of lightness. "Stop. Please. The gushing, it's too much. You're embarrassing me, Daniel." Gloves in his pocket: bare hands. The temptation to reach out and simply grab was blinding, but it was only that: tempting, not unavoidable. Her free hand curled into a loose fist over the car keys. "Gonna let me in out of the cold, Mr. Correlli?" she asked, bringing up both hands to huff warmly on them; they were bare except for a pair of rings. The little gift bag bounced against her elbow. "I'm currently homeless, after all, in case you haven't heard." “It went....missing,” the tone of his voice vaguely mocking, unsurprised, “That happens, you know. Enchanted things and all,” he opened the door, gesturing for her to go through. “Give anything too much power and you risk....a level of sentience,” not something he had to worry about, but he had heard things over the years, learned a little here and there. Just because he couldn’t do it himself did not mean that he didn’t understand the theory. “That house is older than some US states,” Oksana said, stepping through the door. “If the damn thing wants to go AWOL for a while, there’s not much I can do. Not like it can go far or hide indefinitely, anyway.” “Besides,” she added. “St.Pier property always returns to the St.Pier.” And there were damn few of those left to choose from. “How have you been, Daniel?” Oksana asked, unbuttoning her coat. Underneath it she wore a printed silk dress, reminiscent of a vintage handkerchief. Papery guipure lace at her collar deepened the impression of a pristine, nearly fussy, delicacy. Oksana at nineteen had typically looked like she was in the middle of delivering pizza; at thirty-two, she looked like something out of a collector’s box. “Summerview still recognizing your sterling service to the community?” “They still need cars fixed,” that this had been his primary occupation for the past 40-odd years didn’t bother him. He liked it, it was flexible when he traveled or went to school and things changed fast enough to keep it interesting. “I’m well. And you look better. Time has been good to you,” she no longer looked like she was going to club a seal, but he also knew looks were deceiving. One did not have that much hate and rage so young and then turn out well balanced just a few years later. Even 13 years later. Going behind the counter and waking the computer up, he went to input her information to the system so they could track the repair. “I’ll look at the car myself, but I doubt I have any parts for it on hand, so if you need anything, I’ll have to order them. That might take a little while depending on the part and the weather.” “I got older,” Oksana said. “Some of us do, it’s a whole thing. You might want to try it one day.” She glanced back at the car, mouth quirking. “No hurry necessary. I’m not planning to quit the island any time soon.” There was a flicker of disquiet at that, but it was short-lived. “Have to settle the estate, dot those T’s and cross some I’s...” “Speaking of which…” Oksana set the gift bag on the counter with a telltale click of glass. “Karuizawa, 19 year old. One of the last batches made before they shut the doors.” She smiled again. “Consider it a preemptive tip for the repair or a reunion souvenir. You do drink whiskey, right? I remembered Dad taking out the bottle when you came around. That last night, what was it - “ She snapped her fingers, trying to fish out the memory. “I want to say...Maker's Mark? Is that right? Ain’t that stuff the devil’s own piss.” Oksana shook her head, looking fond and sentimental at the memory. “We had a perfectly well stocked cellar, too. I swear that man had all the fine sensibilities of a hamster.” “Now, now, shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” Daniel chastised lightly, looking in the bag with a delighted expression, “And it was. Fitting for the occasion actually, a perfect choice. It wasn’t that he had the sensibilities of a hamster, it was that you never understood his choices, why he did what he did,” not that he had ever done much to explain himself either. Still, children, were children, not that she was innocent even as a child. "I'll speak as I please, thank you," Oksana said, not unkindly. "It's no worse that anything we said of each other while he was alive. Little point in starting lies now." Whatever happened - afterward - at least Dad and she had been honest with each other. They'd left themselves with that much, even if it meant making some cuts that much deeper. "I understood," Oksana said simply. But she hadn't agreed or condoned, and didn't fake guilt over either. What she hadn't understood was why the town mechanic got a vote in her being kicked out of Summerview. The one-way ticket to Moscow was bought two days after that horrible dinner. At the time it was hard not to feel like Oksana had been deported on the word of a bloody grease monkey. She didn't feel particularly pleased about it now either. "Is his truck here?" Oksana asked suddenly. "It wasn't in the garage and I doubt the house towed it along when it went AWOL." Nodding towards the back of the garage, he replied, “Out back. Drives like a beauty,” meaning that he took care of it and it was his winter vehicle while he couldn’t drive his Baby. “Named it Princess,” which had felt strange when he had first tried the name, calling a big work truck ‘Princess,’ but the first Star Wars was recently out and it was a princess of the Leia variety. He just wasn’t Han Solo. One thing Daniel had learned in his years was to pick his arguments. More often than not, he simply didn’t reply instead of getting drawn into long debates or arguments that no one would win. It was a lesson he thought a lot of people should learn. “I’m sure Dad would be flattered if he knew,” Oksana said. Princess? What a load of sugar, honey, ice, and tea. “While I’m the last girl to come between a boy and his toy, but the nonetheless…” She tapped her knuckles against the counter. “What would it cost to get Princess back into her old garage? The ol’ girl and I have a lot of history to revisit.” ”Oh, she’s not for sale,” he finished writing up the work order for the Mustang and blinked at Oksana, “but I’ve got a loaner you can use while I work on your car.” The other loaner. Should've seen that one coming. "Sell it anyway," Oksana suggested, still smiling. "What could you possibly want with a 20 year old truck anyway, Correlli? Because I'll tell you right now, if you think that orange smell is ever going to come out of the seats then let me assure you; it won't. Ever." The accidental air freshener had been one of Kitty's first enchantments. Dad had found it hilarious – for the first week. "Look, if you want something to drive in winter – I'll buy you another truck. Hell, I'll buy you two." “I can buy my own truck, if I wanted,” Daniel replied, a subtle shift in his demeanor. He wasn’t joking around anymore, “My car is over 50 years old. A 20 year old truck is nothing. It’s not for sale,” he valued vehicles, but that did not mean he needed the newest and best, “And you’re not to go taking it either. Or I will come after you.” Not a threat. A promise. "Settle down, cowboy. My life of crime in Summerview wouldn't start with robbing the mechanic," Oksana said. "So you don't actually need Dad's truck," she continued in a mildly academic tone, as if they were in the middle of a much longer and much friendlier conversation. "Or at least you certainly don't need it to the point of appreciating a newer, stronger replacement. Meaning you're keeping it out of…what? Sentiment?" The keys still in her grasp jingled slightly when she raised her fist to lean her cheek against it. "Funny, I don't recall you being the sentimental sort." “And you knew me so well, didn’t you?” Daniel raised a skeptical eyebrow, “I keep things that are important to me, just like anyone else. Including trucks. If I wanted a new one, I’d’ve gotten one. I clearly didn’t want one.” You pugnacious, sanctimonious, interfering, son-of-a— "Then I'll have to thank you on Dad's behalf ," Oksana said ruefully. "So, thank you. On Dad's behalf." She reached out her hand, fingers half curled over the keys. Still smiling, she put the keys squarely in his hand, her little silver ring glancing off the man's skin. The ring's Enchantment extended instantaneously on contact, searching, analyzing— —and finding nothing. A polished, grand, and resonant nothing, like the vast echo of a cathedral or the disorientation of dipping your fingers into a puddle and finding yourself submerged to the elbow. The deep ache of absence momentarily froze Oksana's smile and turned the muscles of her arm wooden, but only momentarily. A heartbeat later, she was releasing the keys and taking back her hand with every show of politeness. "And thank you on my behalf as well," she added, still looking rueful and ever so well-meaning. "For all your help, Daniel. Don't skimp on the bill, all right? I'd like to be sure to pay back for every bit." Nodding, Daniel offered his most professional smile. “I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry,” he assured her, thinking something odd with what she just said, but unable to place why. “Have a good day!” |