Author's Note: None of the dialogue has been argot-picked, please feel free.

"God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another."

-Hamlet, III.I

Her car is ancient, probably at least as old as Erin herself, a tired old American tank that simply refuses to die with a trunk large enough to transport several fully grown adults, non-existent suspension, the worst handling Erin's ever experienced, and the aqua paint and chrome trim sprinkled with rust around the wheel wells. While Erin has never been particularly mechanically inclined, she is able and willing to fix her cars herself, partly out of necessity, since her budget cannot handle the trips to the mechanic 'Mrs Meagles', as the car had been dubbed, desperately needed.

It was therefore unsurprising when Mrs Meagles began billowing smoke from under her bonnet and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the street as Erin was driving to work.

'No no no! Don't do this to me Mrs Meagles! Please! If you start up I promise I'll buy you premium petrol for a week! Please!' Erin screamed and banged the steering wheel with her fists in frustration. After trying the engine a few more times and getting only a truly impressive cloud of black smoke Erin climbed out of the car and began to push.

Erin pushed the car seven blocks and into the lot of the garage, attracting quite an audience of the bikers that seemed to perpetually be in and out of the garage's parking lot who called out jibes and applauding as she shoved the car the last few metres before sliding down onto the pavement.

'Ma'am?' A blond man was looking down at her worriedly, 'Are you alright?' At this Erin began to laugh at the thought of how ridiculous she must look.

'I shall be quite fine in a few minutes, I'm just a little tired.' Erin shoved a piece of limp, sweaty hair off her forehead (she'd had to dye her hair a pale, lifeless brown that she'd attempted to match to her daughter's out of a chemist's meagre selection, daubing dye into her eyebrows in the flickering light of the motel they'd been staying in) before pulling herself off the pavement with the aid of Mrs Meagles' back bumper. 'Mrs Meagles, however, is feeling quite unwell and I'm afraid I won't be able to fix her this time.' At the man's quizzical look she added 'Mrs Meagles is my car.'

'Right.' Though he looked even more disconcerted then before. 'Do you have any idea what's wrong with, er, her?'

'Absolutely everything.'

'Oh.'

'She's an absolute beast, though she'll probably last me until the apocalypse and then for a few days after that.' Erin laughed ironically, 'I'll be able to put her in my will, bequest her to the person I loath the most in the world.'

'Let's have a look then. I'm Jax Teller by the way.'

'Eleanor Poitier, pleased to meet you Mr Teller.' The false name rolls easily off her tongue as they make their way around to the front of the car.

'Jax is fine.' When Jax lifted the hood a surprise cloud of smoke blinded them for a minute, leaving them coughing and waving their hands in an attempt to clear the smoke. After a few minutes, Jax began to tentatively prod her car's inner workings, making several sounds that were either amazement or horror.

'Hey, Tig, you gotta see this!' Jax hailed over one of the other mechanics, whom Erin recognized from the diner. They both began to mutter, occasionally cursing whenever flesh came into contact with metal that had not yet fully cooled. After a while the other man who had been called Tig stuck his head out from under the car's bonnet.

'You're car's being held together with duct tape.' His tone was one of disbelief as he held up a piece of blackened duct tape on one finger.

'A girl's got to make do with what she has.' She set her jaw defiantly, waiting for someone to mock her handy work. Both men look at her with something that seems to resemble alarm in their eyes and several other mechanics gravitate towards Mrs Meagles' engine, all muttering. Occasionally an ill-placed poke issued forth another plume of acrid smoke, leaving them all coughing and cursing into their arms.

'That's quite the car you got there.' The man with the scars sidled up beside her as she waited for a pronouncement on Mrs Meagles and her bank account's fate.

'Mrs Meagles is a very special lady.' The corner of his mouth seemed to quirk up at the name.

'Fuck.' Erin groaned after glancing at her watch. 'I was supposed to be at work an hour ago. How am I supposed to pay Mrs Meagles' no doubt exorbitant bills when she's actively preventing me from going to work and making money?'

'Need a lift?' He gestures to a wrecker that looked about as old as Mrs Meagles.

'I don't think I could afford your rates.' She laughs, before walking over to Jax with a couple of bills in her hand. 'Look, here's three hundred dollars, fix what you can to to get her back on the road and just leave the rest.' She turns around and takes off running down the street towards Lulu's, her hair flapping in the wind behind her.