. . .
Dan doesn't really appreciate just how cold the basement is until he begins disrobing, right there in front of his locker. He lets out an involuntary yelp when he pulls his sweater over his head, the shock of cold air surprising for it's intensity. Bare skin breaks out into gooseflesh, and rubbing his hands together doesn't seem to get the blood flowing quite fast enough.
Not willing to undress any further in this cold, he gathers the various components of his costume and makes a mad dash for the Owlship. Once inside, he immediately sets to starting the coffee maker, and dialing the heat up to full blast. After the coffee finishes brewing and he's poured his cup—not too much non-dairy creamer (he doesn't have an on-board refrigerator, though he's thinking about installing one) and not too much sugar—he plops himself into the pilot's seat, and closes his eyes. He just sits for a moment, holding his coffee. The smell alone seems to have a warming effect, but it's the long and deliberate mouthful that really seals the deal.
He hears a rattling sound coming from somewhere beneath the dashboard console—it's likely a loose wire or something—but he doesn't really want to worry about it right now, not when he really needs to get going and meet up with his partner. The last thing Dan needs is a grumpy Rorschach because he just had to go and tear his ship apart. He's not too concerned about the noise; he has a systems check planned for Tuesday night. Whatever it is, he'll find it then.
Now suitably warm, he changes.
There is that rattling again, only now it's a little louder.
"Nope," he says to the console in defiance. "Not gonna worry about you right now."
He starts his pre-flight checks, and then they're off.
. . .
The rattling is driving him bat-shit. Not even fully air-borne, and it. Just. Won't. Stop. It has to be more than just a loose wire. It could be something major, some indication that a part needs replacing or, adjusting, or something, and suddenly he doesn't feel all too comfortable just letting it slide. It could be serious.
"Goddamnit."
He finds a secluded area to set down. It's an abandoned parking lot, from the looks of it. If he had to guess, he'd say it hasn't seen use in years. It's almost unrecognizable as a parking lot now; the blacktop has been completely replaced by overgrowth. Intrepid weeds and grasses have staked out their own way in absence of human interference.
. . .
Half an hour later finds him standing surrounded by discarded panels. The interior of the ship looks like a gutted creature from some horror show. He irrational thinks, I've killed my baby. He wonders if he isn't losing it. He still hasn't found the source of all the noise, and if he doesn't find it soon, he's going to have to do something much more drastic. He's already late, and he knows Rorschach won't appreciate the reason. (Don't wish to hear your excuses, Daniel, he'd say, or something similar.)
He's sweating, now, even though he's sure he turned off the thermostat. He has already discarded most of his costume. Cowl, cape and goggles sit in a heap over there at the far end of the cabin. His belt is nearby, though. It's draped over the arm of the pilot's seat, and it's a good thing too, because now someone is knocking.
He stares at the pile of fabric. He won't have enough time to put everything back on. He grabs his belt console and dims the lights. Who ever is out there shouldn't be able to see inside the ship.
There's another round of knocking, this time a little harder. The rattling from where ever is increasing in it's frequency as well, as it that wasn't enough.
"Anybody home in there?" A beat, and then, "Danny?"
It's Hollis. Thank god for that.
"Hell of a place to do some last minute repairs, eh?" he says, as he steps inside. He gives Dan's forearm a light jab.
"Uh. Not that I'm not glad to see you, Hollis," Dan says, as he absently rubs his arm. "But what are doing out here, I mean, it's after 2am."
"I hope you don't mean there's room for only one Nite Owl?" He's grinning, but Dan winces.
He didn't mean to imply—
"No! That's not— Of course not," he lets his arms fall weightlessly to his sides. "I'm just—I'm a little stressed out?"
"I can see that," he says, as his eyes move from paneling to Dan, to paneling, to pile of costume, to still more paneling…
The rattling starts again.
"That. That right there. Hollis, if I don't find out what that is, I think I'm—" He pauses to take a breath. "Oh, god, he's going to kill me."
"Your partner?"
"Yes! I was supposed to meet him an hour ago!" Dan tries to keep the edge of panic from his voice, but can't help but to imagine just how much shit he's going to get when he finally does make an appearance. He closes his eyes, and pulls his hair. Wishes for instant death.
Rattle, rattle, rattle.
Hollis says, "I may not know all there is to know about fancy flying airships, but I do know a thing or two about engines." He looks at Dan with serious eyes. All jokes aside, this is business. "Can I take a peek?"
Dan is actually surprised at the firmness of that. It wasn't a polite request so much as a statement of intention.
"Sure," he says.
Hollis drops to the floor and flips onto his back with practiced ease. Then in one fluid motion, slides his whole body under the dash console. It's all upper arm strength. Dan can't help but to feel just a little impressed. The old man can move.
"It's, uh, it's not really an engine. Not like the ones you work on, Hollis."
"No matter," Hollis calls. "Found your culprit."
He extricates himself with the same ease. Then thrusts a scared and wide-eyed fur ball at Dan's chest, proceeds to make a show of stretching out his back and shoulders.
With a broad sweeping motion of his arm, he paints an imaginary sign in the air. "Mason's Auto Repair and Stowaway Removal. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
The cat squirms and struggles in Dan's arms. She's scared and she doesn't know him. He sets her down. Dan watches the cat disappear into one of the cabin's rear storage cabinets. He sighs. At least she won't be too difficult to fish out.
"How'd you know?"
"It's actually a common thing," he starts. "When it's cold, they want some place warm and oftentimes an engine block's it." He rubs his neck. "In your case, well, I don't know how she got in there. But there you are."
Dan opens the compartment in which his newest passenger hides. Sets his previously discarded sweater inside as a nest. She doesn't seem all too interested in leaving just yet.
"I guess I will be putting in that fridge," he says when he realizes all he has to offer his guest is non-dairy creamer.
"I think you could use a second pair of hands," Hollis says, looking at the mess Dan calls a ship.
. . .
"It's good of you make it," Rorschach says, and Dan's not sure, but he thinks his partner is teasing him. "Hope you weren't too badly inconvenienced." Now he's sure of it. He doesn't respond, just slides next to him behind the set of empty oil barrels. "Fortunately, our quarry also lacks punctuality."
"Yeah, well. I had good reason."
Rorschach turns his attention to Dan now. He's all ears, apparently.
"Yeah," Dan says, he knows he's wearing a stupid grin, he can feel the pull of muscles in his face. "I'll let you meet her after we're done here." He knows he's going to get so much shit for putting it that way, but he doesn't care.
Rorschach growls, but Dan doesn't give him a chance to articulate that displeasure. He's spotted movement, and signals this to his partner. There's work to be done.
. . .
Rusty's claimed that compartment, the one towards the rear. She never leaves the ship, and that suits Dan just fine. It's kind of nice having a ship's mascot, at any rate. For her part, she seems to appreciate all the milk and tuna Dan keeps in his on-board refrigerator, but he doesn't mind if that's the real reason she stays.