Seto prepared himself for an awkward morning between himself and Atem as he stepped out of the house. He found himself relieved that Noa's car was gone by the time he made it to the garage, knowing his twin would exist as another buffer in case the shop was too quiet, but he didn't rejoice in his twin's presence for any other reason.
But as Seto pulled through an intersection less than half-way to work, his car gave a loud cough just before the engine died.
He pounded a hand on the steering wheel.
"Son of a…!" he swore, clenching his teeth.
He tried to corral the car to the curb. It drifted to a slow stop with the rear bumper hanging in the next lane. He turned the key once, and then again, but the car gave no response. There was nothing Seto could do but throw on his hazard lights and wait for a break in the traffic.
He slid out of the car and moved to the curb to dial Kaiba's Coats while he waited.
"Good morning, you've reached Kaiba's Coats. This is Noa speaking. How may I assist you?"
"It's me."
"Hello, Boss. Everything alright?"
There was a pause as Seto noticed a chance to move in and push his car, but he chose to let it pass as traffic picked up again. The cars in the oncoming lane slowed as vehicles had to swerve around his tail, many of them honking.
"Just letting you know I'll be in late."
Noa gave a groan. "Is everything alright?"
"Just fine. Father's car just died. It might be time for a replacement."
"Can't you get it fixed?"
"I just got it fixed."
Noa's voice turned low. "We can't exactly afford a new car right now, Seto."
"Noa, I just dumped hundreds of dollars into this piece of junk for the same exact problem. The engine's out again. I swear, the mechanic used duct tape."
"Maybe there's a warranty on the repairs."
"I would have to be an idiot to go back to the same mechanic."
"What other choices do we have?"
"Noa, don't fight me on this. I'm parked in the middle of traffic with my hazards on, trying not to get hit by an oncoming vehicle while I push this thing off the road. I need a new car."
The line was quiet, but Seto could still hear noise in the background. Noa didn't answer.
"Look, I'm just calling to let you know not to expect me."
When Noa still didn't respond, Seto huffed and hung up the phone.
Seto rode in the front seat of the tow truck to the closest repair shop. The man driving the truck was a pudgy, greasy-looking man. He wasn't sure if the stench was coming from the man, or if it was permanently encased in the upholstery, but he spent the entire ride trying to cover his nose with every breath.
He arrived at a local repair shop he was certain he'd taken his father's beat up vehicle to before, some other time it had broken down. He was instructed to wait in a room lined with linoleum chairs.
A television in the corner blared with the upbeat tempo of an exercise infomercial. Beside the television sat a table, with a pot of coffee he was certain would taste as much like oil and grease as the air in the shop smelled.
Kaiba's Coats rang on his cell phone's caller ID while he waited.
"Kaiba," Seto answered.
"What's the verdict?" Noa's voice came over the line.
"I haven't heard back from the mechanics yet."
"No, I mean, are you coming in?"
"Do you really need me there right now?"
"We could use some customer service assistance."
"You want me to take a cab just so I can count change for you?"
"It's you or me. We're short staffed today."
"Who hasn't come in?" Seto asked, his heart thumping so hard he could feel it.
"Miss Hopkins has an event today. It's been on the calendar. You must have forgotten that you're the one who put it on the schedule."
"…Right. I remember."
A mechanic poked his head through the glass shop door and waved him out.
"I'm going to have to call you back." He hung up the phone without waiting for a response.
The mechanic held out a part for Seto to examine. He didn't know much about auto repair, simply from lack of experience. But he knew enough about motors and engines to understand that if a part were rusted to pieces as badly as the mangled mess in the mechanic's hand, something was bound to stop working.
"It's not good," the man said with a voice sounding like he smoked eight packs a day.
"I can see that. What's the repair cost?"
The mechanic winced.
"This is just the tip of the iceberg. You can pay us to fix it, but it's not gonna last too long. The undercarriage is so rusted, pretty soon all you'll have left is the steering wheel."
"I get the picture," Seto said with a touch of irritation. Why wasn't he getting any practical answers? Did the man think he couldn't grasp the concept of mechanical work simply because he came in wearing a suit? "What do you recommend?"
"We work hand-in-hand with the towing company that brought your shiny ride in. If you leave it with us, I can guarantee you that the scrap metal will cover your towing costs. You'll break even."
How would he get to work, not just today, but until he found himself a replacement he could afford?
"I have to make a phone call."
"Sure. Take all the time you need."
As the mechanic disappeared, Seto redialed the shop. He got Noa again on the first try.
"Listen. The mechanic didn't give me an estimate. He recommends scrapping it. Are you okay with that?"
"Why are you asking me? As long as you're able to get here, I don't care what you do."
Seto was silent a moment.
"It was Father's car. I thought scrapping it without a thought might bother you."
"Whatever, Seto. Do what you have to do."
Seto didn't believe him for a second, but he wasn't about to fight the point.
"Fine. But this might mean we have to consolidate our remaining vehicle for now."
"I'm sorry, our vehicle? It's my car. I can't wait around every morning for you to decide to come in five minutes before we open."
"Noa, what do you want me to do? The car is dead."
"You had no problem with Mokuba taking the bus yesterday. Take the bus."
"I never said I had no problem with him taking the bus, but that's a separate issue. Mokuba rode his bike nearly a mile to the bus stop from our house. I'm not doing that."
"You're a real stand-up inspiration, Boss. I hope you know that. I love your dedication."
The line went dead. Seto pinched the bridge of his nose. He squeezed the fist wrapped around his cell phone, willing himself not to chuck it against the wall.
Pay to take a cab, or let his workers be inefficient. Fix his car, or replace it.
Let Mokuba drag him to New York, or let his little brother miss out on a chance to chase his dreams.
There weren't enough resources to spread around for the decisions Seto needed to make, and even money wouldn't solve all his problems.