NOTE
I changed the title. I'm not sure if I'll keep it the way it is now, but the old title was just a placeholder until I figured out what to do with this story.
Update: So, uh, the title is probably gonna change multiple times for the next couple days. Trying to make a title that I can sleep on and still be happy with. :)
Anyway.
Car troubles
I've been standing outside open door of the garage Roxanne's been working in for the last 10 minutes. She does not know I'm here.
I need one of those carjack things for my car, which had a tire leaking air when I was heading into work. Unable to do much of anything at the time, I decided I would just replace it with my spare when I leave. Fortunately, I know one of the garages in the raceway has a carjack. Unfortunately, Roxy's using it to work on one of the carts.
Being that the cart is one eighth the size of an actual car, the carjack just lifts the entire cart high enough for Roxanne to slide under it.
The reason I didn't speak up when I got here was that, upon seeing Roxanne in the garage, played the memory of Monty being obliterated by a single blow to the leg from Roxanne's wrench. I realized pretty quickly that I was 1: out of range of Roxanne's infamous wrench attack, and 2: could have alerted her to my presence using any other method that wouldn't scare her so bad as to make her last out.
But I, uh. I kinda like watching.
Roxanne is that fashion freak that insists on being sparkly and wearing ungodly amounts of make-up, so seeing the side of her that's underneath a cart engine with oil stains everywhere is kind of endearing to watch. Gives her more personality, I guess.
I probably shouldn't linger too long. I can always come back when she isn't actively using the carjack.
Then I see a sizable blob of oil drip from the engine onto Roxanne's unknowing snout.
"Fuck!.. Argh-"
She doesn't react well.
Unfortunately, I do, and let a snicker escape.
I can hear the gears turning in her head as she cognitively recognizes the sound I made originated from somewhere other than the engine she's working on, and she immediately stops wiping the oil off to snap her head towards me.
"Y-you-!"
- TANG -
"GaH!"
Roxanne shot her head upwards in response to my presence, sending her head flying into one of the plentiful metal components under the cart's body.
That.. Looked like it would do some damage, actually. She's just sitting under the car holding her face in her hands.
"I'm, uh.. Are you OK?" I ask after a few seconds.
"Yes, Micheal! Just.. Mmmnn.." She responds impatiently.
"Do you need help?"
"No, stop talking."
She sits there for a little while longer.
"What the hell is it, Micheal?" Roxanne eventually mutters, removing her hands from her face.
"I was just coming to.. Um, how long are you going to need the carjack?" I respond uncomfortably. I want to try and comfort her or something, but I know my attempts at doing so would only make things worse.
"Most of the night, get the fuck out of here."
"Alright.. Listen, I'm sorry for-"
"If this leaves a scratch or puncture in any way, I'll fucking kill you." She says, motioning towards the point of impact on her head. She also starts to wheel herself out from underneath the cart and stand upright.
"It didn't, I'm sorr-"
"Mike, shut the fuck up."
I'm just trying to apologize.
"Godammit, I should beat you to a fucking pulp right.. now.."
Roxanne takes a deep breath.
I stare at her, waiting for her to finish.
"It's ok, it's whatever. What did you say you wanted?" She lifts her head back up to look at me, with a lot less rage in her eyes than before.
"That ended.. Unusually peacefully." I say
"That's your one freebie, I'm not gonna feel guilty about that scar of yours anymore." She responds.
Wow.
"I came here to see if the carjack was available."
"Oh, right, it isn't."
"When will it be?"
"Why the hell do you need a carjack?"
"Car."
"You have a car?"
"...Yeah?"
"Well get cozy, you aren't getting it for a while."
Roxy turns around to start working again, she grabs a couple extra tools she thinks she'll need in the next few minutes, and turns back around to see me sitting on a shelf.
"..Micheal?"
"Yes?"
"What are you still doing here?"
"I need that thing, and I've already done all my work for tonight."
"Well you aren't getting it for a while yet!"
"I know, that's why I'm sitting here."
...
"You're gonna stay here?"
"I guess so. Nowhere else to go."
"What about that poor excuse of an office?"
"That's like, 10 minutes away."
"So you're just going to-"
"I'm staying, Roxanne."
She just stares at me like an idiot for a while, before regaining her composure and turning her back towards me.
"Fine. But you're making yourself useful."
"Mkay."
Roxanne's at the front of the cart, holding shut the 'hood' of the thing, while I'm standing on the side of it with my hands on the controls.
"Punch it."
I turn the ignition, and listen as it politely churns without ever igniting itself. If I had to guess, this thing is worse off than when Roxy began to work on it. The thing won't even start anymore.
"Ruh roh."
"Fucking.. Piece of junk."
"What's wrong with it?"
"God, I don't know anymore." Roxanne turns around and leans on a counter, staring into a small mirror that's notably out of place in a garage.
This isn't as violently angry as she usually gets at everything. I've noticed that she wasn't as emotional as she usually is earlier when I arrived as well.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes. Why?"
"You haven't screamed at me as much as you usually do."
"I'm about twenty seconds away from fixing that."
"So is something wrong?"
Roxanne just sighs in response.
"No, today just hasn't been working with me."
"Mm."
She's been staring in the mirror for an awfully long time now.
"I think you should take a break."
"Mike, shut the fuck up."
"I mean it. Just take it easy for the rest of the night."
"No, I want to get this piece of shit fixed 'today'." She turns around to start working at it again.
"Roxy."
"Fuck- what now? Since when do you call me Roxy?"
"Trudge told me you liked it."
"So?"
"..So I called you Roxy?"
"Since when the hell do you care what I like being called?"
"Why.. shouldn't I?"
"Look- whatever, just help me open this back up." She waves off the question and points at the hood again.
"Why does it have to be done today?"
"Because I want it to be."
I grab Roxanne's arm before she has the time to bend down and pick up her tools.
"We're done with the cart for tonight." I declare
"Mike, what the hell is wrong with you today?"
"You just told me you've been having a bad day."
"So?"
"So you should get rest, so you aren't pissy when you perform tomorrow."
"Oh, so I'm 'pissy' now?"
"You're also 'a mess.' And 'exhausted.' "
"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"
Sigh.
"I'll make a deal with you. If you take the rest of the night off, I'll stay completely silent when you're doing my make-up tomorrow."
Roxanne just glares at me.
"I promise." I add on.
"Do you even think you can shut the fuck up for that long?" She retorts.
"I will, but only if you put down the damn wrench."
This time, Roxanne sighs.
"Fine, let go of my arm."
Victory.
I do so, and Roxanne calmly gathers all her tools and dumps them haphazardly on the counter.
"So what the hell do you suggest I do, then?" She tilts her head towards me.
At this angle, I can really see how badly she messed herself up tonight. I've been writing it off as 'garage workshop vibes', but Roxy's face and clothing is covered from head to toe in oil splotches.
"How 'bout you look in a mirror, to start."
Roxy scoffs, before turning around to do so.
"Careful who you say that too." She jabs
"Mhm.."
I start making myself useful, putting stuff away, and shutting the place down. This place takes an awful lot amount of work for one person.
By the time I'm done, Roxanne is using a wet rag on her face, rubbing it up and down her snout where the big glob hit her earlier.
I assume my previous position atop the counter and wait for her to finish. It'll be nice to get out of here and away from the annoyingly brightly colored vehicle.
Staring down at the cart, my vision drifts from it, to Roxanne's tail, which is sticking out a good distance across the room. Unsurprisingly, it is also coated with oil. I bet that happens every time, since it's usually near or on the floor when she's working.
"You think you can get all the oil off your tail?"
Roxy takes a break from looking in the mirror to glance behind her, and then looks back.
"Showering gets most of it off."
"Is that all you do?"
"To get the oil off my tail?"
"Yeah."
"Usually. If it gets too bad, I'll get someone to wash it."
"Sounds tedious."
"It isn't, here."
She tosses the rag she was using over her shoulder in my direction, and raises her tail towards me while she continues to stare in the mirror and do whatever the hell she's doing to her fur.
I pick up the rag, and give the tail a good look.
"Is there somewhere I should start?"
"Just wipe off the damn oil."
"Mkay."
I do as I'm told, and try to wrap the rag around her tail so I get its entire circumference. Roxy visibly jumps upon contact.
"Jesus, Mike, that rag's cold!"
"It's the rag you 'just' gave me."
"I know! Just.. ugh.."
She mutters in defeat, and I continue trying to clean the tail.
"It isn't that delicate of a procedure, Mike, just wipe off the damn tail."
"There's oil everywhere, give me a second."
"Just, hurry up, corpse."
...
"Sorry." Roxy says after a short time.
"For what?"
"Calling you that. I know you don't like it."
"Oh, no, it's alright. It doesn't hurt my feelings or anything."
"So I should keep calling you corpse?" She gives me an amused glare
"You, uh, don't have to."
"That's what I thought."
...
"Sorry." I say this time, feeling the need to keep talking.
"It doesn't hurt, if you're talking about the tail."
"No, the uh, about when I came in and made you hit your head."
"Oh, well-"
"Nice going, by the way."
"Fuck- I knew there was gonna be a catch in there somewhere." Roxy replies. I snicker.
"I am sorry though, it looked painful."
"It was painful."
"Mm... Sorry."
"It's.. fine, Mike, just hurry up with the tail already."
"Maybe if you tell me to hurry up for the 17th time, it'll make the oil come off faster."
"If I have to tell you to hurry up even one more time, you aren't getting the carjack."
"Oh yeah. Forgot I needed that thing." I let my gaze shift to the item in question. I took the cart off it as Roxy was beautify-ing herself. I make sure not to let my mind wander too far, I think she was serious about not letting me have it if I go any slower.
Roxy actually laughs when I say this, though.
"What?"
"What have you been doing here all this time, then?"
"I don't know, helping?"
She snickers again.
"I can't imagine helping me break that piece of shit's your first idea of a good time."
"I've been having fun."
"Great, then at least one of us got something out of this interaction. You tinker with stuff like this in your free time, then?"
"No, I'm not that great a mechanic. You're just fun to mess with."
"Thanks, Mike." She responds sarcastically.
I stop brushing and stare at her for a second, realizing something.
"Mike." Roxy calls out impatiently.
"Oh- I'm done already, sorry."
"Is it done well?"
"Its done."
"Whatever." She takes her tail back, lifting it to keep it off the garage floor.
"When did you stop calling me Micheal?" I blurt out. I haven't even noticed until now, but she's been calling me 'Mike' much more often.
"When did I-..?"
"You used to call me Micheal."
"..I guess? So?"
"So I get to keep calling you Roxy."
She doesn't respond right away.
"You're-... Do you like being called Mike?"
"Yeah."
"Doesn't Freddy call you Micheal?"
"I think so."
"How come you haven't told him to call you Mike?"
"We don't hang out very much, so he doesn't say my name that often anyway."
"We don't hang out, either." Roxanne replies, turning her head back around to keep fixing her fur. "So why do I get to call you Mike?"
"We do hang out. We're hanging out right now."
Roxanne stops to think about it, and never continues finalizing her fur.
"We're hanging out?"
"What else do you call this?"
"Obligation, or buttering me up so you can have the carjack."
"I'm neither obligated to talk to you nor have any reason for buttering you up. I could have taken the thing and left fifteen minutes ago."
"..Oh."
She struggles to come up with a way to continue the conversation.
"Why are we hanging out?" She asks after some hesitation.
"What?"
"Why are we hanging out?"
I don't know how to answer that question.
"Why wouldn't we?"
"Because we don't get along."
"I think we do."
"..You think we do? Aren't I mean to you?"
"Friends can be mean to each other. I'm mean to you too, sometimes."
"Oh."
Roxy goes silent again. She hasn't turned away from that mirror ever since we started talking about this, so I'm having a hard time figuring out what she's thinking.
"Are, um.. Are we friends?"
I think that's a stupid question at first, then actually take a second to think about it. We really didn't get along for most of my time working here, and I'd be lying if it was one sided. I didn't hate Roxy or anything, I just preferred to steer clear of her, if I could. But that changed. Ever since she confronted me after I had finished talking with Arin, I got to see a different side of her. She was confused, exhausted, and showing weakness, all of which are emotions she tries her very best to suppress. Which is why I told her this:
"Yeah. I told you before, you're my favorite."
She very slightly tenses up, it was small and hard to notice, but I think those words had effect. Finally, she stops looking in the mirror to face me.
"You-.. But you were just saying that to make me feel better!"
"I was, but I still meant it."
"Y-you can't just-!"
She struggles to string words together to create any kind of meaningful sentence.
Eventually, she gets fed up with trying, and leans on the counter with an annoyed huff.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you're lying to me again."
"I don't know what to say, I mean it."
"You-.."
She sighs
"...Friends can be mean to each other, right?"
"Yep."
"You're really friggen' weird, you know that?"
"We're all weird."
