Location PittStop Auto Repair

This is an in-universe location thread.
illirica

illirica

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PittStop Auto Repair
and Tinkerbelle's Contraptions

The name of the place is PittStop Auto Repair.

It falls in that strange niche of both being a new fixture and having been there forever. The old-timers just call it that garage up on 4th. There's been a garage there as long as anyone can remember. Sometimes the name changes, sometimes parts of the building get torn down and rebuilt, sometimes the parking lot gets redone, sometimes there's new machines or new windows or new doors. It's the Shop of Theseus at this point, but in some capacity, it's always been there.

It's been the PittStop since October of '23. New sign, new ownership. Good to have someone in the place again, the old-timers said, after the last place got foreclosed on and it was empty for a few months. Some of them also say things like "aren't they going to get some more mechanics who are, um, qualified?"

By this they mean guys, because the PittStop's lead mechanic suffers from the unfortunate condition of being female, and is thus unable to tell a hex wrench from a spark plug - not that they would ever say that, but they do mean it, when they ask for someone more, um, qualified.

Said mechanic is Auraliese Mayhew Koch, who is, in fact, quite qualified, as anyone who actually gets their cars repaired there can tell you. She's also the co-owner, with the other co-owner being her father, but he doesn't live in the area. Also, he isn't a mechanic, but this does not stop some people from asking him car-related questions when he visits, because the answers to such things are stored in the testicles. Auraliese has many things to say about this, if she gets started, which is often. Fortunately, she usually expounds upon it to the transmission, while up to her elbows in a vehicle, thus saving people from having to reconsider their opinions.

Business isn't extremely fast - it's a new place, after all, or at least an old place under new ownership, but it does all right for itself - enough to limp along like an old VW beetle. Not fast, not pretty, but it'll get you where you're going. The mechanic doesn't mind. It's all about the journey, not about the destination, and sometimes along the journey you get to fix the cars.

For most people, that's enough - that's all the PittStop needs to be, and that's all it is. For a few people, though, there's just a little bit more to the place than there first appears to be.

It's the back room where the interesting things get put together. The mechanic has a little bit of a side gig going on, because she has a little bit of an ability that lets her do some interesting things with machinery, when it comes to other people with those little abilities. She can't make something out of nothing - when it comes to straight up technical design, you're probably better off hiring an engineer. What she can do, though, is see straight to the core of whatever little ability someone has, and come up with some sort of technology to work with it.

People usually ask her for weapons. It's not her business what they do with them - she doesn't pick sides, and it's generally suggested that people not try to pick one for her. Sometimes she wishes people would come up with something more interesting to work on, though. A super-powered electric wok would be fun, if she knew someone with the right powerset to make it work. But she'll do what she's asked for, or at least give it a shot, as long as they're paying.

How much they're paying depends a lot on who they are. If they can afford it, it'll cost - but interesting things for interesting people, well, she might make an exception if they're broke. More than the money, she just wants to know how it worked out - give her a chance to fiddle with it again, see if she can make it better - see what she can do with it. Because again, it's all about the journey, not about the destination - at least for her.

For the others, maybe not. So if you're someone like that - and you've got a destination in mind - and you want someone to help you out with the journey... well, just come in some time when it's not too busy. Appointments are preferred, but not required.


Just ask for Tinkerbelle.

 

“Fuck!”

The indignant screech was accompanied by the smell of burnt plastic and scorched flesh, as well as the sound of something breaking apart and hitting the floor. Hard. The breaking apart mostly came after, as Mari had spiked her latest prototype against the floor of her workshop. Prototype Number Seven had proved as much of a bastard as its six older siblings, but this one had the unique flaw of trapping the beam instead of splitting it, reflecting its heat and energy back into the weapon, resulting in a very hot, very deadly bundle of metal and plastic in Mari’s very human hands.

Luckily, she’d figured something like this might happen. When working with weaponry it paid to have spares. She needed to let this place air out, though. And as much as she hated to admit it, she’d hit a wall. Spork would suggest they go drinking or killing or actually hit some walls, but Mari needed some time to- Well she needed some time around someone who wasn’t Spork. Chucking a couple spare laser pistols and Prototypes Number Eight and Nine, based on Number Seven, Mari shot them a quick text.

Heading out for a bit. Not on a job. Hopefully back before sunrise.​

Mari could hear the music pouring from their room, even with the closed door. She purposefully waited until she had stepped outside to send the text. Miku would probably read it out as soon as they received it, and Spork would come bounding out of their room like a golden retriever who had heard someone say the word ‘walk’.

It hadn’t taken long for some of the less than legal forums Mari kept tabs on to mention a place named Tinkerbelle’s Contraptions. Its owner, Tinkerbelle, apparently had a knack for making devices that could augment the powers of its user, provided they had powers in the first place. Mari had gone to scope out the situation and had instead found a mechanic named Auraliese, just someone who liked tinkering and working with her hands. Despite her best intentions, Mari found herself taking a liking to Auraliese, who went by Tinkerbelle when on the side job clock. She might have even considered her a friend, if Spork wouldn’t have insisted that they were secret lesbian lovers. And that was without her telling Spork that Tinkerbelle knew about Kitsune.

But still, she was the only other person that Mari could go to with technical issues of this nature, and her no-nonsense attitude was much more enjoyable than arguing with dickheads on the internet about the appropriate amount of heat a blade could hold without losing its temper. So Mari pushed open the side door to PittStop Auto Repair, making her way into the garage proper. She was told the side entrance was for “people who knew what they wanted”, but Mari had half a mind that it was just left open so Tinkerbelle didn’t have to keep coming up to the front to let people in.

Speaking of, Mari found what she was looking for.

“Hey Aura,” She said to a pair of legs sticking out from underneath what she was pretty sure was a Chevy. “Are you free tonight, or do you have work?” She probably should have called or texted first. Oh well.

 





Tinker
belle

Auraliese was currently half underneath what the vehicle's owner had insisted was a '97 Chevy Impala. It was not, of course, because there was no such thing as a '97 Chevy Impala, because they'd stopped making them in '96 and not started again until 2000. He had insisted that she was wrong about this, which annoyed her, but she wouldn't take it out on the car, because it really was in very nice shape for a '95 Impala, which was what it actually was.

She'd added her standard 10% Asshole Tax on to the quote she'd given him about tuning it up and getting it ready for his grandson, who'd been a nice kid who'd seemed interested in her comment that the '97 Impala didn't exist and actually looked it up on his phone while his granddad had been telling her she was wrong. Since he wasn't the one paying, she didn't feel bad about the price hike. The kid's 16th was still a few weeks away, so it wasn't a rush job, but she wanted to make sure everything checked out, especially if a kid was getting behind the wheel.

A pair of shoes walked up, stopping outside the neon pink duct tape line she'd put down, which meant it was someone she knew and/or someone smart enough not to come lean on the car while it was lifted. A voice greeted her, familiar. Good, then. Auraliese scooted the rest of herself out, sitting up on the roller cart and resting her arms on the knees of her coveralls - dark gray, which was boring, but it hid the grease stains well enough, and she wasn't in here to be a fashion princess.

"Hey, Mari. I can probably get off. My manager is a sucker for cute girls with cat ears." Auraliese was her own manager, so that made things simpler. Mari had told Auraliese about Spork's whole they think we're an item thing, which Auraliese found hilarious, and tended to play into as much as possible - especially when Spork was around. Today, they didn't seem to be. It was still funny.

In any case, Mari was a welcome distraction, mostly from the fact that all she had to work on was a '95 Impala right now. She was going to have to start advertising again, and she hated having to advertise. It was possible that this was because every time she tried to do it, her dad felt the need to give her a six hour lecture about advertising techniques and building her business, possibly still hoping that she'd give up on the whole auto mechanic thing and follow in his footsteps. There wasn't a chance, but at least they sort of got along these days, most of the time.

She inhaled, her nose wrinkling. "You smell like burnt plastic." This was said with the authority of someone who knew exactly what burnt plastic smelled like. It was one of those scents that lingered. "What'd you do?"

 

Mari waited while Auraliese slid herself out from underneath the car, propping herself up with her arms. She shifted the wait of her bag to her hip, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. Sometimes she wondered why she always seemed to be hanging around Spork-like figures. Granted, two was not really a pattern, but considering they comprised the entirety of her friend group, Mari was willing to call it a trend.

“Oh? That’s good.” Mari said, faltering when she realized Aura was teasing her. “Luckily, mine’s a sucker for cute girls covered in grease.” There was an awkward pause as Mari processed exactly what she’d said.

Fortunately, she was saved from the pain of explaining who her manager was and why their opinion mattered and why she just insinuated that Aura was covered in grease by Aura saying she smelt bad. She didn’t say it quite like that, but Mari knew the smell of burnt plastic. It was bad.

“I didn’t do anything. This little bastard did.” She said, shaking the bag slightly for emphasis. “Been working on a new attachment for the better part of a month and it just doesn’t want to work. This last one destroyed the prototype and the fucking gun. Luckily I’ve got spares.”

Mari shifted the bag around as she stepped back awkwardly, giving Aura the space to stand up.

“Figured I’d go to the second-smartest person I know to see if we could figure it out. Worst case, you can rubber duck for me.”

 






Mari really was awful at this whole pretend flirting thing - almost bad enough to make Auraliese wonder if she was serious. They'd been friends for a while, but... eh, who knew? Engines were at least easier to understand. She brushed a wayward wisp of hair out of her face - not the first time she'd done that today, if the grease mark on her temple was any indication. Fortunately, she was unbothered by it, especially because Mari had come bearing gifts. Sure, the gifts were in pieces and Auraliese didn't get to keep them, but a project was a gift nonetheless. Now, if she'd also come bearing Chinese food, that would have been ideal, but you just couldn't have everything.

"Let's take it to the back room and we'll take a look at it," she offered, getting up and lowering the not-a-'97 back to the ground. She didn't like leaving cars lifted; it seemed like bad safety practice somehow. "Are your hands all right? I've got some burn stuff... or... you didn't die, did you?" Hopefully it hadn't been that bad of an explosion, but... well. It wouldn't have been the first time. Auraliese tried to do a mental tally on the Kitsune Count, but she never really was able to keep up with it, especially because she knew Mari didn't tell her everything, probably with good reason.

Getting to the back room meant crossing the shop floor and going through the little vestibule that she pretended was a lobby. It had two chairs in it for people to wait in. They were cheap metal folding chairs, because Auraliese did not actually want people sitting around waiting while she worked on their cars. Then they'd start asking for coffee and pastries and bathrooms and all of a sudden she'd be running a resort.

It probably wouldn't be that bad, but it still wasn't something she wanted to encourage. The front desk was currently being manned by a potted barrel cactus with a bell on top of its barrel and a sign stuck in the pot that said "Ring Bell For Assistance." It worked ridiculously well to discourage people from slamming the bell or ringing it seventy times. Usually she just got a gingerly bing! and sometimes she got a more emphatic ding DING DING "OW SONOFABITCH", which was also funny.

The back room was locked, but Mari had been there often enough that she probably knew the code from looking over Auraliese's shoulder when she entered it. She seemed like the sort of person that would do that. Auraliese waved her inside, unconcerned, flopping down on one of the third-hand couches. "So, where's Spork on your list of genius people?"

 

Mari let the bag fall, holding up her hands to reveal the various bandages haphazardly wrapped around her hands and fingers, the faint scent of burn cream filling the air before she let them fall again. Her style of medicine could comfortably be called “field triage” at best and “what the fuck are you doing” at worst. It didn’t need to be elegant, it just needed to stop her hands from falling apart and cover the worst of the burns.

“Nah, it wasn’t that bad. Pretty sure I’m still around 7 lives right now. Had a couple contracts run pretty long and got a little sloppy.” Mari lied, easily. She rarely let people know about her power, and she made a habit of not telling people how many lives she had left, not even Spork. Granted, Spork didn’t even know that her power existed, and luckily these had been solo contracts. Spork wasn’t a big fan of stakeouts and the like, so Mari tended to keep them out of the loop when the jobs involved long periods of waiting and watching.

In reality, Mari was down to 5 lives. She’d gotten more than a little sloppy trying to wrap a job up because it had no longer interested her. Speaking of Spork, Auraliese asked about her partner in crime as she led them into the back room, flopping down while Mari slung the bag off her shoulder and let it drop onto the table.

“Good one.” Mari laughed slightly. “Spork’s three doors down the hall from the list. They’re not dumb, they just prefer doing things in the most chaotic way possible.” She zipped open the bag, the stench of burning plastic emerging from the opening like a toxic cloud. Mari pulled out the melted plastic heap that still looked somewhat like a pistol and set it on the counter before pulling out her backups and prototypes.

“See what I mean?” She gestured to the melted weapon. “Not enough to kill me, just enough to set me back a mile and a half.” Mari’s gaze shifted towards the ceiling, her thinking face slotting comfortably into place.

“It should be as simple as just splitting and refracting the beam at the same time. Is it just too powerful? Maybe the angle was wrong and it reflected the beam back into the casing.” The muttering continued, seemingly unaffected by Auraliese’s presence, as Mari began cycling through different options and making odd gestures in the air, manipulating objects only she could see.
 





"Hm."

It was the sort of hm that meant that Auraliese was pretty sure that Mari was lying - but if Mari was lying, then she probably didn't want to say the truth, and Auraliese trusted her enough to let her make her own decisions about that. If Mari got down to the point where she needed help or a place to hole up, all she needed to do was ask, and she knew that. If she'd rather not talk about it, then Auraliese was going to respect that.

She glanced at the bandages, which looked sloppy but probably good enough - Auraliese's first aid skills were about on the same level, so it was possible she could have done it a little neater just because she wasn't trying to do it on herself, but it wasn't like she was running an immediate care center.

The assessment of Spork wasn't unexpected, Auraliese had heard enough Sporktales by now to know that not stupid, just what the actual hell described them pretty much perfectly. It'd gotten Mari to think about something besides her ninth-life-crisis, though, so that was a mission accomplished. She walked over to the couch, taking the half-destroyed item out of Mari's hands as her friend dropped down, turning it over in her own hands for a bit while Mari made shaping gestures in the empty air, trying to talk herself through whatever had gone wrong.

"All right... walk it back, Mari. What's the goal, what did you try, why did you try it?" She didn't ask what had gone wrong, because that was pretty obvious, but she'd learned that sometimes just having someone make their brains slow down enough that they had to articulate their thought process could be enough to help them find out what had gone wrong on their own. And if not... well, if not, she had a whole shop full of tools, and they could tinker with this sucker until they got it sorted out, one way or another.

 

Mari screeched to a halt, Aura’s voice cutting through her BBC Sherlock-esque mental work. She shook her head to clear the last of the imaginary numbers and took a deep breath. Right, rubber ducking. She came to Aura to figure this out, and step one was always to rubber duck.

“Alright, the goal was to take the standard beam and split it into multiple parts, sorta simulating shotgun pellets.” Mari began pacing as she talked. She always did this while she was thinking or trying to figure things out. Spork hated it because it meant they had to keep adjusting on where her voice was. “Prototype 1 was just bifurcating the beam, nothing fancy. Baby steps, y’know?”

That one had worked fine, or as fine as could be expected for a first attempt that turned the beam perpendicular. One beam had become two, and both had shot straight out the sides of her pistol, leaving some interesting scorch marks along the wall. It had taken her a while to sort out why that was, but she eventually solved it.

“Prototype 3 finally got that working. 4 I tried to double that, split one beam into four. That one surprisingly worked on the first try. I got greedy with 5, tried doubling that to eight beams, figure that would be an adequate number. Unfortunately nothing came out. That leads us to Asshole Number 6.” Mari gestured once again in the bag’s direction.

“Tried amplifying the power of the base beam, thought that maybe the power was reduced too far by trying to split it in eighths. Either that wasn’t the issue or I dialed it in too high.” She grimaced as her hands twinged in pain slightly, almost mockingly. Mari looked back at Auraliese, shrugging.

“Spark anything?”
 





Mari didn't stay down for long, getting up and pacing back and forth, diffusing energy into motion into brainwaves or something like that. Auraliese had gotten a degree in auto mechanics, not quantum neuropathology or whatever it was. So, one beam, two beams, red beams, goo beams. Or something. She sat down on the couch, since no one was using it anyway, half listening to Mari try to work things out and half turning the death laser over in her hands, looking it over and wiggling little parts of it to see what she thought of them.

Not much. It was a ray gun. Auraliese didn't exactly build ray guns, unless someone had some sort of ray-based ability, and then ray guns just sort of happened. It wasn't really something she could explain, other than that how her thing worked seemed to be much more attuned to the other person's power than just supertech in general.

Kind of a shame, supertech in general would have been a lot more marketable. As it was, it was practically impossible, because ninety percent of people with powers wouldn't admit they had them, and of the ones who did, it was a whole lot of "um... so I have this... thing" before it got anywhere useful.

Spark anything? Great question. Auraliese sighed, shaking her head. "I mean, not unless you want me to build a siphon attachment and pull off one of your lives for storage and see if that'd let you regen a tenth while it was held in stasis, because that'd be pretty easy."

Why? Why would that be easy? Why did that make any sense at all? It didn't! Except, of course it did, and she could see it, because that was how her thing worked, it was just complicated and weird and not always easy to deploy in the ways people actually wanted it.

From what she'd managed to hear about those with meta skills, that was pretty much par for the course.

 

Mari’s comment had been less digging for answers from Auraliese and more just a natural pausing point before her mind launched into its various theories for new ways to solve the problem. God, if only Auraliese had a whiteboard in here, she’d have it filled in an instant. But whiteboards could be evidence, and Tinkerbelle was very clear about her need for discretion.

Her follow-up comment, however, pulled Mari fully from her laser-lit thoughts. In fact, it took her a moment, the phrase ‘what’ hanging on her lips before her brain finally managed to process what her ears had heard. Siphoning one of her lives? Not for storage, no. She’d have no need for a tenth, besides the turnaround in order to see if it was even viable would be a whole month, and that could come in handy. However it could be useful in other ways, a power source, perhaps or-

“Could you make it a separate holder?” The laser gun was completely forgotten, Mari’s attention now swiveled and fixed firmly on Auraliese. “Something to hold a life, allow it to be used by someone else? Something small, easily concealable?” Already Mari was drawing blueprints in her mind, upgrades to gauntlets that conveniently included a hidden hatch, connected to pre-existing vitals data that would automatically activate should those vitals flatline.

All of which would remain unknown to the wielder, of course.
 





"Um. Well." Auraliese hadn't actually expected that much investment in what had been an offhanded comment, but she supposed she was in it for now. "So... I don't... know."

Good answer. Super informative. Okay, okay, break it down.

"Okay, so sequestering the life I can do fine, I can stick it in a bucket or a bracelet or something, technologically speaking, sure. The thing is, though... I'm not really all that sure if anyone else can absorb it, or if that's just a you thing. Because... I think absorbing them might just be a you thing."

Auraliese turned Mari's device over a few times because - okay, because she was fidgeting. She gave it a minute more, not even really looking at it, then sighed and put it on the couch cushion next to her and getting up. "Mari... The first time you talked to me about all this..."

She didn't know if she wanted to get into all this, but maybe she might as well. She'd known Mari long enough, anyway. If she trusted anyone with it, it might as well be her. "Just hang on a sec."

That'd give her long enough to open up the tool cabinet on the side of the wall and - and the locked drawer, at the bottom of the cabinet, which held... a few things. Things that she hadn't given to people, because sometimes Auraliese's brain came up with ideas that even she wasn't comfortable handing out. None of them were labeled, and they'd all only work with the specific metahuman power that she'd designed them for, so it wasn't like it was a huge security risk.

But there was a glove. And it'd fit Mari perfectly. Little wires criss-crossed, making it more of a mesh than anything else, the framework supporting a system of miniature interlocking gears that probably should have done nothing - except Auraliese had made it, so it didn't do nothing.

She set it on the table, and stepped back. "Look. That's... that's the thing I thought of, when we first talked." She shrugged, crossing her arms and giving it a slightly dissatisfied look. "It's... um. It'll absorb a life. From someone else. Add it to your stack. I don't know if you can go over nine or not, but... Hell, I don't know, Mari. I didn't mean to make a murder glove. Life and death powers don't leave a whole lot of room for expression, though. I can put it back in the box if you want. No one has to know about it. And I can still whip up some sort of life holder thing. I'm just... trying to explain, I guess. Your ability's a weird one. It might not do what you want it to."

 

Mari nodded along, understanding that Auraliese’s theory was just as plausible as her own. Sort of how super strength came with the unspoken territory of enhanced muscular durability so you didn’t shred your bicep with every punch, perhaps her own power of coming back to life involved not only a replenishing reserve of lives, but the innate ability to absorb them.

Her curiosity peaked though as Auraliese stepped away, and Tinkerbelle took her place. Mari didn’t pry into what else was in the locked drawer, just as Auraliese didn’t pry into her contracts. An unspoken agreement between contractors who worked on the wrong side of the law, or at least the side that wasn’t always seen as correct.

She set something down on the table and stepped away, looking a little uncomfortable with herself. Mari stepped forward, picking up the device softly before sliding it on, even as she was given the explanation. The soft leather fit her like, well like a glove. The crisscrossing wires gave it a sort of ramshackle look, and the gears clinked softly as she inspected it under the shop lights. Her brain was already working to pick the thing apart, to discern how it worked, and yet she knew that she would never figure it out. That was just how Auraliese’s power worked, same as hers.

Mari let a thought flow through her, fingers tensing slightly as she tried to connect with the glove. A few of the gears began to whir to life, soft clicking that gave a pleasant mechanical noise that belied their murderous intention.

“You might be right, Aura.” Mari said as she took the glove off, setting it back on the table and stepping away. “If you don’t want me to use it, you can lock it back up. I won’t say no to something that might help, though.”

“But still, a reserve could certainly be useful.” Her mind still whirled with possibility, at something that she could do to help the person she dragged into all her fights with her. “We could maybe work on it together. You discern how to contain a life, I work out how to pass it on to someone else?” She sounded weirdly hopeful, as though she enjoyed the prospective idea of working with someone else.
 





Auraliese gave a noncommittal shrug as Mari tried the murderglove on. Of course it fit, she was a professional. Or, at least, she had some weird thing that made things work with who they were supposed to work with, and apparently fitting perfectly was part of that, because she'd never actually been wrong.

"It's your ethics, not mine," she stated, when Mari offered to have it locked back up. On one hand - hah - it was definitely more absolutely a killing sort of weapon than Auraliese usually did, but on the other hand, a ray gun or whatever was also a killing sort of weapon, it was just a little more of a gray area because you didn't have to point it at people.

But meta stuff was a whole big thing, and Auraliese was... really very much aware that a whole lot of it seemed to be trying to murder each other, for various reasons. And she liked Mari. She liked Mari quite a bit, the question of how much Mari liked her being somewhat up in the air, and Auraliese wasn't going to push that particular issue. Especially not with someone she'd just handed a murderglove.

"And sure, we can try to co-op it if you want. I don't know what'll end up happening. Like I said, the reservoir is pretty easy, but getting it passed on to someone else is going to be more about them than about you, and my thing doesn't twig to other people. Except when it does. Except that's usually more about them than about you. Like I said." Did this make any sense? Auraliese didn't know. It made sense to her, but that didn't necessarily translate to making sense to other people. She'd tried to explain things once, and gotten absolutely nowhere. It was sort of like digging a hole and ending up popping out on the other side of the world. That shouldn't actually work, and there was no reason why you wouldn't run into magma or have to dig for hundreds of years, but somehow it just sorta... did.

That still didn't make it any easier to explain to people, especially when they started asking silly questions like but how come...?

And, while Auraliese was thinking about silly questions... "Do I wanna know who?"

 

Mari shrugged, picking the glove back up and tuck it away. It was a tool to add to her arsenal, nothing more. Could be incredibly useful if she got up close, certainly more useful than a knife. A scenario clicked through her head, business meetings with a target where all she had to do was shake their hand and hold it tight, then they’d be dead. No marks, no damage, no evidence. Of course, she could only use it once before anyone who wanted to work with Nine Tails, Inc. would never trust Kitsune during a meeting again.

You don’t kill people in meetings, that’s the coward’s way out.

She nodded in agreement as Auraliese gave an explanation. It actually made sense to her. Auraliese’s ability functioned with specific individuals, for Spork it would essentially be like trying to build a weapon for a brick wall. It just wouldn’t work. Then she asked who it was for, and Mari jumped a little. Of course that was a normal question to ask.

“Spork.” she said quietly. “They already get themselves hurt plenty, and I want something there as a backup. In case things go really wrong.” Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Speak of the devil.

Mariiiiiiiii. I’m hungryyyyyyy. Can you pick up some food on your way home?​

Mari let out a sigh, putting it back in her pocket and moving to pack up her equipment.

“Sorry for cutting it short, Auraliese. Spork wants me to get dinner, and if I don’t head back now they’ll probably try to eat a pigeon or something.” She smiled awkwardly as she adjusted the back full of weaponry and melted plastic.

“See you later?” It came out as a question, although she didn’t seem to stick around for the answer, heading out of Tinkerbelle’s shop with a small wave as she went to get something for her and Spork for dinner.
 
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