InsaneJournal

Who: Scud + Tom Branson
What: Working, chatting
When: 4/21
Where: Autobody/car shop
Rating: Low
Status: Complete



California was always kind of warm, but it was clear that Spring was definitely here. The weather was a little crazy lately, going from downpours to bright, sunny days.

Today was one of those rainy days, and as a result the shop was oddly slow for the day. The large garage doors were still open and it was staying mostly dry inside, but the sound of the rain and the nearby puddles were making things a bit more dreary than they otherwise might have been.

Scud kind of liked it.

His hands were dark and grease stained and there was car grime underneath his fingernails -- but that came with the job and he didn't really notice it as he moved closer to the outside -- just outside the aim of the rain -- to light up a cigarette. "Slow day," he said, just for the sake of conversation as he turned his head to look over at his coworker.

Tom had never minded the rain. It reminded him of home sometimes, and the smell of it helped diffuse the smell of grease and oil inside the garage. He took the downtime at the garage to catch up on national and international news, and glanced up from the paper.

“Yeah, it’s not so bad though.” Tom shrugged a bit. “Sometimes I don’t mind the slow ones. Maybe we’ll get lucky and can close up early.”

Looking out at the mostly empty parking lot, Scud took a slow drag from his smoke, exhaling smoke out into the wet and the rain. “Could be good,” he said. No one would ever complain about being able to go home early, and Scud certainly wouldn’t make himself the first. “Any good news?” He asked, leaning lazily against the side of the garage door.

Tom let out a bit of a laugh. “There’s never good news in newspapers. Not national ones, anyway. All about debt and disaster and the like. Shame, really.” He folded up the paper and leaned up against the counter.

“Figures,” Scud said, flicking ashes into the wind and leaning his head against the wall. Boredom didn’t suit him, and he always seemed to need something to do with his hands. “No news is good news? Is that what they say?” He wasn’t the type to read the papers or really watch the news. It’d never been an interest. Despite his obvious brightness in some matters, the man had never been able to find a care for most things that didn’t outright affect him.

“Well, it seems to be true, at that.” Tom wandered up to the garage door, peering outside at the rain. He frowned a little. “How long do you think it’s going to last, this downpour?”

Shrugging, Scud squinted out at the rain. “Five minutes? Five hours? California is weird.” He flicked his cigarette butt into an old coffee can that was set right outside the door. “Either way -- you know as soon as we try t’leave someone will show up and ruin it all, yeah?”

“Of course. That’s the way of the world, that.” He let out a reluctant sounding sigh. “Not that I have anywhere better to be, anyway. I suppose doing nothing at work is a lot like doing nothing at home.”

And wasn’t that the truth? Scud gave a noncommittal sort of shrug over that one, because it didn’t suit his cool and nonchalant nature to say that yes, he would probably be just as bored at home. Instead, he lit another cigarette. “So --uh. How’s...the wife. And kids.” Had he ever asked Tom about shit like that? He couldn’t remember. Whatever, he’d roll with it.

“Non-existent,” Tom replied, more amused by it than anything. The two of them hadn’t ever really talked before, anyway, and it was sort of nice just to make conversation to pass the time. “But when they decide to come around in real life, I’ll let you know.”

“Oh, right,” said Scud with a half laugh before biting the tip of his thumb in something akin to embarrassment. “I knew that.” But really, he hadn’t. And since Tom didn’t seem to hold it against him, he didn’t have to feel bad. “But, y’know. No rush on my account.”

“Trust me, there’s no rush on mine, either.” Slipping his hands into his pockets, Tom rocked a little on the balls of his feet. “Things are good on your end, then?”

“Oh, you know. Same ol’.” Scud wasn’t particularly vocal about his relations -- not in the way of gloating, anyway -- but the scruffy mechanic did come in to work with bites, bruises and smug expressions more often than not. He didn’t date. He wasn’t seeing anyone. That didn’t stop him from making his rounds through what appeared to be a good deal of the city, though. “Nothing I’d write home about.” He shrugged, took another drag of his cigarette. “Ya know. You could go home if you want. I can handle the rest of the day.”

“I’m bothering you that much, huh.” Well, Tom wasn’t going to complain. He didn’t do well having nothing to do, and he could probably find something useful to do if he wasn’t holed up in the garage for the rest of the day. “Well, if you’re sure, then.”

“No biggie,” Scud said, with a half smile. He wasn’t bothered, obviously, by Tom being there. He liked Tom just fine. It wasn’t going to get busier though and Scud would have rather greedily kept the hours to himself. It wasn’t like his cigarettes were going to pay for themselves. “No reason for us both t’suffer. Go. Be free. Live a good life.” A pause. “For th’both of us.”

“Seems a lot for a man to live up to. I’ll do my best.” Tom gave a firm nod, and then laughed. “I’ll see you around, then. Thanks again for granting me my freedom,” he said, walking off to strip off his dirty coveralls.