No words were discernible in the stream of grumbles coming from the head bobbing over the smoking engine.
"Fuck-bucket."
Ah. There was a word. And from the sound of things, fixing the engine of Fenrir was not going well.
You and Cloud were on what was supposed to be picnic trip. Six miles from home, Fenrir's engine sputtered and died. Had it been your car, you could have just walked home.
"Shit! Ow!"
This exclamation tore you from your musings. Cloud's goggles were splattered with oil.
You sighed and left the car to help him. "What a beautiful freaking day."
