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[i]Time:[/i] 12PM.
[i]Location:[/i] Home (Garage)
[i]Interacting With:[/i] Vinny, Wes [via text] [@McHaggis], Ruby [@Undine]
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Rudy was half way under a car when his phone rang, tinny, just beneath one of the wheels of his greasy creeper. Now, he shouldn’t have been surprised by such a thing; he did, after all, leave the volume on high for reason. Many people texted or called him during the day, most looking for a quick bang or a bite to eat, but for some reason he was still surprised. So much so that his head shot up and connected with a rather heavy heat shield. The proceeding noise was a dull clang, and a rhythmic ringing that left him deaf and blind for a few moments.

Varied curses flew up and out, echoing across the oil-stained garage musically. Rudy rolled out from under the car, rubbing at the bump on his forehead with one hand while the other lowered to grope for the buzzing phone. The world spun when his eyes tried to fucs, and then all at once he was staring begrudgingly at the blue-ish bubble of an iMessage from Vinny. His horrid grimace turned into a lovely smirk; a signature expression. Mindlessly, he tapped back a quick reply:

[quote=Rudy]To: Vinny
[color=de4545]got you covered bro, bring her over sometime this afternoon and ill fix her right up[/color][/quote]

The phone went dead silent, resting lightly in the palm of his stained hand, and Rudy sighed and stared up at the ceiling. All inspiration was lost, even though he was sure people didn’t need inspiration when doing an oil change, and with a lack of motivation to even move he settled against the worn pleather of the creeper and sighed. The world outside slipped in through the decent space separating the garage door from the dirty concrete. A chilling breeze, not too different from the gales back home, kept the heated air within the workshop moving and electric. The smell of distant winter mingled with oil and smoke. Everything felt a bit too warm and a bit too cold and Rudy sighed again and sat up to scurry towards his jacket.

Once fasten into the familiar warm leather, he turned back to pat the bumper of the old jeep. It was a neighbor’s car, a Jeep Grand Cherokee of an indiscernible year, and it surely was giving Rudy a bit of trouble. Leaks, bruises, shoddy interior, all of it was a mess to him, but he had been paid for one thing and one thing only: to change the oil. But now he was even too irritated on the nothingness he felt to focus on that.

[i]I need a break.[/i]

[color=de4545]”Ruby! I’m heading out! Text me if you wanna meet up later!”[/color]

Rudy pushed up the garage door, slipping under and letting it fall down with a crash as he braced against autumn winds. Noon sunlight glistened against the asphalt, glittering like stars in a rocky sky and Rudy appreciated the sight with a raised brow before moving on towards his car. His beautiful car, his wonderful, awesome, utterly dented, coughing, rusty car. Lovingly named Debra, Rudy cherished the rustbucket as if it were his own child. As his hand trailed across the frozen surface, leaving fingerprints in the mud-streaked redness, a soft smile pressed against his lips. A new idea for break time came to life.

Quickly, Rudy typed a message to Red Lake’s own Wesley Ward.

[quote=Rudy]To: Wessssss
[color=de4545]hey doll you around? wanna hit up main street together ;^)?[/color][/quote]

It was a simple request, but was bound to end in a mess of lights and roaring engines. Street racing was the only other thing Rudy enjoyed besides cars probably, and Wesley was both his rival in it and his partner in crime. If anyone was going to keep him busy during his break, it would be her. Without another glance to his phone, Rudy popped open the door of his car and plunged the key into the ignition. Sound and smoke roared from beneath the Charger, and instantly the current popular pop song blared over his speakers like a siren. And then he was pulling away from the garage, the jeep, his home, and racing towards the center of town.