6273/Only Happy When it Rain(maker)s

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Only Happy When it Rain(maker)s
Date of Scene: 19 May 2021
Location: A rundown stretch of highway
Synopsis: Nico is rescued from the sort of hot early summer day that ruins goth makeup by her saviour and a fine fine American automobile. But class precludes the newly formed duo from stoping Old Man McAllester or whoever.
Cast of Characters: Nico Minoru, Sarah Rainmaker




Nico Minoru has posed:
Nico's doing what Nico does best. Well, not best. What she does best is glower and snark and do the gloomy goth thing she's been doing since she was a high schooler.

What she's doing now is her second best trick, totally floating along the side of the road, moving her legs like she's walking, with her long skirt not quite brushing the gravel, but hiding her feet so people think she is just your typical hitchhiker, not a slightly floating -magical- hitchhiker preserving the thick soles of buckle-festooned boots.

She's wearing a long, snugly fitting sweater, black of course, with a faded grey printing of a spoooooky ghost, long sleeves would hang down past her fingertips if she didn't have cunning holes in the sleeves for her thumbs to poke through, practically letting her sleeves act like fingerless gloves.

It also means she can easily have one thumb stuck out in the classic 'I need a ride' gesture. Her other hand's hidden in -its- long sleeve, because for some reason people are way less likely to pick up the svelte, slender goth with a metal arm. It's -intimidating- or something.

The catch, of course, is that someone needs to drive by to pick you up, and she's not going through the trouble of using the Staff of One to summon a ride. Who knew following a message board post about this rare herb growing in upstate New York was a bad idea? At least she didn't run into any poison oak this time. But this lonesome stretch of road is really getting old. Especially since she doesn't carry a cell phone, and her walkman's out of AA batteries. This is not going great, and so sulk levels are at max.

Sarah Rainmaker has posed:
New York is suffering from an early summer, and this lovely, sunny afternoon has already pushed the mercury past 85 F -- F stands for Freedom Units -- which is hot enough to raise a watery mirage along the distant horizon. Perfect weather for an upstate drive if you're the outdoorsy Southwestern type, but kind of miserable for a shut-in pale goth floating alongside a long stretch of sun-baked asphalt.

Which is why the sight of an old pickup cruising her way must be a relief for Nico. Or the sound of one, since it's coming from behind her. Early 80s Broncos aren't known for their stately elegance or for stealth, and this one is even less modest than most. It's a moderately lifted, two-tone blue and white beast with big, knobbly tires that crunch through gravel as it pulls up alongside and settles into the telltale loping, deep idle of an old American V8 with an aggressive aftermarket cam profile. Good thing there's a step welded to the frame, because this truck -looms-. But, you know, in a friendly way.

The sun-baked college girl leaning out the window to check Nico out would have looked cooler doing it if she didn't have to crank the window down by hand first. Her sun-squinted dark eyes and crooked grin make up for the lack of power windows, though.

"Hey." She tucks some windblown black behind an ear, tips her head in the universal 'come on in' gesture. "Need a ride?"

Nico Minoru has posed:
Nico doesn't feel the approach of the rumbling slab of American steel. 'cause she's floating and all. But she hears it, at least eventually when she's not busy lost in thoughts of how tempting it is to burn another precious teleportation spell. And, well, when she hears it, she turns to peer back, and her mouth falls open. That's a lot of truck. But it's painted blue, and looks well cared for, so it's probably not anything to wory about. It looms, sure. But it -does- loom friendly.

And the window cranks down to reveal the driver, and slim, artfully plucked dark eyebrows lift up, dark-lined eyes widening. She doesn't look like a serial killer! Or even a supervillain! Hell, the truck hasn't even got an animal theme going on or anything, it's not like a... Wolverinemobile or something.

Plus, Nico knows she can handle herself. Totally. Black Canary taught her -punching-. Yeah, it was one lesson, and it was like two months ago. But it was Black Canary. She's got skills. And now Nico definitely also has them. Totally.

She bobs her head with a little sigh, "I... uh... hey! Yeah. Totally. A ride would be great." Not that she's melting under the sweater, and the long skirt, and all the darkness that draws that heat like a goddamn laser beam or anything.

At least, that's what she tries to exude as she damned near springs into flight as she hops up to perch on the step and fumble with the door a bit. She's not used to any trucks, let alone a lifted one, so there's a bit of awkward maneuvering as she swings herself about and into the passenger seat.

Which is as good a time as any to take a further look at her new friend, head tilted down a little, peering through lashes, "Uhh... hey, I'm Nico. You're totally a lifesaver... unless... you're not -lost- are you? I haven't seen anyone else in like an hour and a half. Are you lost? Oh god, we're -both- lost aren't we?"

Sarah Rainmaker has posed:
Well cared for, but definitely old -- much older than either of the girls, and it shows. But some chips and dings only add to the Bronco's affable character. Sarah's grin gets wider but stays just as crooked when Nico accepts her invitation to be serial murdered-- I mean, to hop in a trustworthy stranger's car. Literally, given the size difference. She has to lean -waaay- over to pop the door lock for Nico, but Sarah's got a long enough wingspan for it. The heavy steel door creaks when it opens.

"Sarah," she says, having rolled the window back up by the time Nico is seated. The interior is a camel brown 70s holdover except for the cushy bucket seats, which have been reupholstered in that stripy Mexican blanket pattern that's practically a requirement for any vehicle with Arizona plates.

"I promise I'm not lost," she assures while giving her new passenger a good once-over. "You're really rocking that goth look, huh?" Nico's fashion is a far cry from Sarah's own faded and frayed skinny jeans, pale olive tank top and beat-up old boots. She waits until the other girl's buckled up for safety before nudging the Bronco's big, tractorlike gear shifter into first with the casual expertise of someone who's been driving stick since she was twelve. Her truck rumbles into motion from its loping idle like an old dog that's still eager to play fetch.

Nico Minoru has posed:
Nico makes sure she's buckled, because road safety first, kids. But also don't hitchhike kids. Unless you really really have to. Nico groans softly as she sinks back in the bucket seat, slim frame practically disappearing, she'd swear she can barely see over the dash. "Ghhhh. Nice to meet you, Sarah. And awesome! Uhh... where're we headed then? I mean, I don't want to take you too far outta your way."

She chews her lower lip a little pensively, looking over and clasping her hands together in her lap, "Oh! Yeah, I usually do. I mean, okay, like... always do." Not that she uses an inordinate amount of spells to keep her makeup pristine. Only when really necessary. She'll just touch it up, as there's a bit of smear from the sweat she worked up walking. "I mean, if you're headed somewhere with fresh water and like... AC or something, I'd be happy to tag along!"

Slim shoulders shrug, "I haven't got a real rush to get anywhere or anything, so if you're like, going out to investigate a haunted mansion or something, I'll totally chip in. I hear it's usually some real estate developer in a rubber mask."

She makes a show of craning her head around, "I mean, it's not a van and we haven't got a dog, but I bet we can make it work. Plus, you can handle a stick, and I think the Mystery Machine was an automatic, so we're already ahead of the game."

Sarah Rainmaker has posed:
    "Just headed back to NYC," Sarah answers in the neutral tone of a non-native who hasn't bought into the big city hype. Her little bit of Southern accent adds credence to that impression. It's not enough of a drawl for her to be labeled a hick, though -- too educated for that. The rumble of the engine as the Bronco rides a smooth tidal swell of torque up to cruising speed isn't as intrusive as it was outside the cab, but you can definitely feel it in the seat.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, or something." She has a mein of easy-going confidence that pushes the awkwardness of the situation aside. Once she's rowed through the gears, Sarah takes her cue to push a chunky plastic button on the dash and allow fresh, cool air to come spilling through the vents. It may not have power windows or door locks, but you can't skimp on AC.

"I've got class tomorrow, so probably don't have enough time to solve any spooky ghost mysteries," Sarah notes, eyeing Nico sidelong. "... So are you, like, a Wiccan or something? It's cool if you are," she assures, then adds, "I dated one, once." She totally looks like the type of girl who once dated a Wiccan, too.

Nico Minoru has posed:
    Nico chews her lower lip thoughtfully as her knees draw up, heels not quite hooking on her seat, after all it'd be too much to put her boots on the upholstery! She's a guest in this... Bronco. Instead she just sort of vibes at the engine's smooth power, and enjoys not having to float herself or god forbid walk any further.

"Ahhh, kinda? I mean, I do tarot, but that's more like... street beforming. And I do a bit of herbal medicine. I met a sorceress once, but she wasn't a wiccan, she was uhh... actually like -super- blonde."

She snorts softly and grins, "Oh, you go to ESU? I hit the library there time to time. Maybe we can hook up! They've got some neat books. Comfy benches too."

She says this with the confidence of someone who definitely has a ranking of NYC benches. "And hey, if you have time before your class, I can show you a pretty good breakfast. We'll get along great, Sarah!"

Nico sinks back into the seat again, content to let the miles roll on, and see what their return to the city brings.