[b][center][h2]Joel Nicolosi[/h2] [/center][/b]

Joel gave a slight smirk seeing the reaction in Elise that he expected. When he was full time into fixing cars, her exact expression was one that he had come to recognize often in women and men. Over the course of several years, he typically found women more receptive and easier to deal with when relaying what was often bad news. Men’s egos and pitiful attempts to best his automotive knowledge usually only led to further frustration. He gave a light shrug at her comment asking if he would take a card. The money he was being paid to drive professionally vastly eclipsed some of his best weeks while in the trade. He wasn’t making a living on it any more and couldn’t take her money in good conscience. It would just have to be her lucky day and she could chalk it up to being in the right place at the right time. She was cute. Maybe in a different timeline, he would have turned some game, but the thought was just a passing musing. He finished off his beer with another long drink and examined the War Chest for another.  “Zero,” He said, referring to the cost. “I don’t have a timing belt here anyway.” Setting the prop down into position, he let the hood drop and lock with an affirmative thud. “Like I told Iron Chef over here,” He motioned with his bottle towards Ryan, “Just take it easy for a couple days and come back by here and I’ll pop it on real quick.”

Seeing the trio that arrived, his eyes narrowed slightly past them for a moment at the distinctive front air-dam of what he knew, even in the shadows of night, was an [url=https://pictures.topspeed.com/IMG/jpg/201502/next-bmw-m3-will-be-.jpg]M3[/url]. The rare electric blue color under the streetlights instantly reminded him of Siobhan’s story of the blonde, Paige, having to pay out of her own pocket to fix after it had been keyed by none other than Victoria. He winced a little at the thought, knowing the cost, even for a small scar, had probably been in the hundreds, if not cresting a thousand at the BMW dealer. He gave a nod to the group, not sure of the third girl they had brought along, but satisfied that the women outnumbered the men. Nobody liked a sausagefest. He wiped his hands with a rag as they came to the main door. “What’s up?” He greeted. “Still plenty to eat, feel free to grab something from the War Chest.” 

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