Owner	Pose
Robbie Reyes	Canelo's Auto and Body is one of a smattering of independently owned and operated repair shops in Brooklyn, and perhaps one of the most well known. They'll fix anything from a broken windshield to full on collision damage; and though they aren't the cheapest place to get work done, they do a good job. Today, there's a sign out front advertising half price oil changes. Maybe business is slow. One of the bay doors is open, and there's a vehicle with its driver's side door open, and someone half in, half out in the seat. Nice car, looks like a BMW. The mechanic's in a pair of loose coveralls, black Converse, and a baseball cap worn backwards, clipboard in his lap as he does a few final checks and ticks things off with his pen. It's getting on to closing time, but the OPEN sign's still lit up, so.
Rien D'Arqueness	The low rumble of a motorcycle engine can be heard moving down the street. It sounds a little grumbly, as if it's been sitting in a garage for awhile and is just now being brought out onto the street again. It's one of those damnable custom jobs, low to the ground with fat tires, big fuck-off curving handlebars... and a tiny blonde, semi-familiar. Working the pedals like a pro, she downshifts further as she turns into the shop's lot, letting a boot scrape the ground as she comes to a halt. There's a glance thrown around the exterior, before the sunglasses tilt down and a smile curves her lips, watching the man with his checklist. Rien pushes the sunglasses up onto the top of her head and cups a hand around her mouth to call out, "Hey! Think you can squeeze in a tune up before closing time? I'll buy you a shot and a beer after if you want!" There's the biggest grin on her face, she recognizes something about him, even before she sees his face.
Robbie Reyes	He'd know that sound anywhere; the scratchy purr, like a big cat who's just woken up from a long nap, and is hunting for a snack. The lanky mechanic looks over his shoulder briefly, just long enough to spot the bike's broad, aggressive profile as it rolls up behind his bay. Then a flick of his eyes to the blonde straddling it. His pen pauses as he studies her a beat with those dark, furrowed brows. The shades; the smile; the way she rides that bike like she's not fucking around. Then he finishes scritch-scratching his signature at the bottom of the form, pulls the keys out of the ignition, and climbs out. "No can do, chica. We're closing in.." He slams the door, checks his watch. "Ten minutes. Probably should come back tomorrow." Okay, now he's just being an ass. The keys are flipped around and caught, and he goes to hand them off, along with the checklist, to his boss. Canelo himself, presumably.
Rien D'Arqueness	Without missing a beat, without losing an iota of that smile, Rien swaps seamlessly over to Spanish, <<Don't be like that, now. We really should have a chat. You heard my baby, it really needs the attention. Help a bitch out? I'll owe you.>> She leans back into the bike's seat and lifts a brow at him, <<Seriously, if you can help me out, it would be huge. Name your price, I can't leave my bike in distress.>> She glances around, making sure nobody is watching, then motions with her hand. His next step takes him forward... and somehow he's walking right towards her rather than towards the building. She winks at him, "I'd -really- appreciate it. Please?"
Robbie Reyes	Jaw set, Robbie seems to consider the request for a few beats. He looks for a moment like he's going to refuse. Flip her off, or simply ignore her and start closing up. But then she motions toward him, and.. well, it's like he'd *meant* to head her way. Like a compulsion he's not even aware of. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coveralls, and steps around the BMW, eyes on the blonde. Whom he *clearly* recognises from the other night. Caution's written in the taut line of his big shoulders, the way he moves like a predator who's not yet sure if he's outgunned. <<Sounds like your drivetrain's got some wear,>> he replies in rapid Spanish, pitching his voice a little louder to be heard. <<I can take a look at it for you, might just need some lube. Or you might need a new chain. Don't know till I get in there.>> He stops about ten feet away, still watching her face. No smile in sight.
Rien D'Arqueness	Tilting her head so she can look up at him, Rien gives a nod, <<Appreciate it. You want me to walk it into the bay?>> She stays leaned back, but there's clear appreciation for his acquiescence to the request. She just got him to walk towards her, the choice was still his on what to say. She gets her first really good look at him, head to foot, scanning him thoroughly. Including scanning him with that 'other' sight, as if she's peering into his soul. Trying to verify what she sensed the other night. Her smile drops back to a more normal expression as she rocks up to her feet, holding the weight of the bike between her thighs easily despite her small stature. Leaning in slightly towards him, she murmurs, <<I see you for what you are, what you carry with you. Think we should really talk. Maybe I can help out?>> Rien looks up towards towards Robbie, <<I know entirely too well what it's like to have a heavy responsibility you never asked for thrust on you.>>
Robbie Reyes	<<Yeah.>> His voice is low, and a little scratchy, like maybe he's been yelling or smokes too much. Accent's East LA, unmistakeable if she's familiar with it. Definitely not from around here. <<Yeah, go ahead and walk it in. See what I can do for you.>> He's tall, though a little on the lanky side. Dark hair, sloe-lidded eyes, his features strongly suggest the Mexican flavour of Hispanic. And his posture suggests a whole lotta street. He's about to turn around and disappear back inside the garage, when Rien mentions 'seeing him for what he is'. He stops cold, and shoots her a long, searching look. Is there a sign stuck to his back, or something? HI, I'M A DEMON. <<Fine. We can talk. But I don't like what you have to say, I can't promise I'll be nice.>>
Rien D'Arqueness	Nodding, Rien sets herself back into the seat of the bike, turning the handlebars to angle the bike into the bay, walking it in slow and easy. She turns it off and pulls the keys, setting the kickstand as she rises up and swings a leg over. Turning to find him staring at her, she gives a small shake of her head, <<I'm not here to threaten you. I just want to see if I can help.>> The mention of not being nice has her laughing, <<You clearly don't know my family. I'm pretty sure my father actually invented grumping and angry shouting.>> Rien walks back towards the opening, standing outside the bay door and pulling out a small tin. She plucks a homerolled cigarette out and lights up, drawing deep. <<How safe is it to talk? Anyone else around that's gonna overhear and understand?>> Rien watches Robbie moving around, smoking something that smells distinctly of an herbal blend that, in other circumstances, would be used to ward off minor evil spirits. It's definitely not a cigarette normal people would smoking. Smells good, but the draw on it has to be harsh and acrid as Hell.
Robbie Reyes	Robbie's back is put to the girl for a minute as he goes to put a few tools away in drawers. Though he sneaks her the occasional glance over his shoulder, as if he's making sure she's still where he left her. "What if I don't need your help?" he murmurs, in English this time. His cap's tugged off and set aside, grease-stained fingers raked through his dark hair. Great, now he wants a cigarette. Working his jaw slightly, he turns and approaches her again, this time easing in close enough to just *barely* breach her personal space. Nice conversational distance; and he displays about as much fear as he did when face to face with the Juggernaut the other night. Which is to say, remarkably little. Guy's tetchy, but not frightened. "Ain't a good place for it. If you want to talk about what I think you want to talk about." His gaze drifts from the cigarette, back to her eyes. "You're also the second person to show up here all concerned about me. So what's your deal?"
Rien D'Arqueness	"Then I'll wish you luck and make sure you can get hold of me if you change your mind. Maybe we'll run across one another since we seem to have the same... side hustle." Rien lifts a shrug from where she's standing. Yeah, she heard the murmured words. Which is astounding, her hearing must be -excellent-. Those blue eyes following him around the shop as he puts things away. When he approaches her, she flashes a quick grin at him, not moving an iota. Letting him into that space scented with herbs and tobacco, she lifts a brow at him, leaning in slightly. Her own little inner alpha taking that step forward. "That's fine. If there's somehwere else you'd rather talk, I'm game." Pausing with the cigarette halfway to her lips, Rien chuckles, "No deal. I just recognize a kindred spirit when I see one. Not many like you around. Or like me, for that matter. Kinda tend to gravitate towards them."
Robbie Reyes	Another mystery, another bullet point in his mental list, and they're starting to add up to a whole lotta questions. Questions he could try to answer the hard way.. or he could play along with her game, try to be civilised, and see where it gets him with her. The grin coaxes a slight smile out of him, and a flash of dimples. He doesn't budge an inch when she moves in closer; though perhaps she can smell it on him. The demon. It almost has a scent and a taste; acrid and sharp, like an electrical fire just waiting to happen. "You think we--" He gestures between them. "Are kindred spirits?" His smile broadens into a vulpine grin, tonguetip skimmed along a canine as he studies her. "Gotta say, ain't met too many girls like you before." There's a shout from deeper in the shop; his boss letting him know he's headed out for the night. Robbie replies with a quick bark of Spanish that he'll close up by himself, and then turns back to Rien, one hand sliding over the handle of her bike. Real casual-like. "So. Talk."
Rien D'Arqueness	Reaching up, she touches a fingertip gently to the underside of his chin, winking at him, "Sweetie, you ain't ever met a girl like me." Rien matches his grin for just that moment before the moment is ruined by the yell from deeper in the shop. A touch of amusement flits across her features as her eyes slip from him, towards the voice, then back to him. "Thought you said it wasn't safe to talk here?" The grin is quick and a little cheeky, before she brings the cigarette to her lips and draws deep on the smoke. Releasing it skyward, she looks at him and offers, "I hunt demons. I was literally -made- to hunt and fight demons. Well, mostly one specific demon, but he's been locked away in Hell for eternity, so I've found new purpose in hunting the other demons down." Rien lifts a small shrug, showing a lack of concern over it, "But I've learned.. there's nuances. I don't -like- it. I have a tendency to see things in black and white. Good or bad. Right or wrong. But... people like you. Mm. You break that mold. And then I started looking at it differently. You.. didn't ask for this. You didn't ask for the responsibility put on you, anymore than I did. So.. I started trying to offer a hand. Whether it's as a drinking buddy, a shoulder to lean on, whatever." Her eyes lift to meet his, "And hey, if you'd rather run it all solo and be a lone wolf, free spirit? I can respect that. My family tends to be the same way. We don't really play well with others." Pausing, she chuckles, "Okay, we -do-.. in certain circumstances. But that's not what we're talking about." Rien sends a glance around before lifting her hand for a drag from her cigarette. While she draws on it, three bone claws extend from the back of her hand, about 7 inches long... and glowing blue-white with magical energy.
Robbie Reyes	The touch is permitted, though his restraint is nearly a visceral thing. The impulse to reach for her wrist, lightning quick, and break it; but so far, Rien's given him little reason to hurt her. She's forward, certainly. Very forward. But rather than intimidate him, it seems to pique his curiosity. While he's listening to her explanation, he digs in his coveralls pocket for his pack of cigarettes, and lights one up with a hand cupped around it. "Canelo's gone home," he offers by way of explanation. "Think we're good." Or he was just bluffing all along, and never gave a shit about his boss overhearing some demon mumbo jumbo. A steady stream of smoke's exhaled from his lips and nose, head tilted a fraction like he's trying to puzzle the girl out. "Always worked alone," he confides. Nothing particularly arrogant about the way he says it. Simply matter of fact. But then, right in front of his very eyes, Rien starts growing-- shit. His jaw hardens, and he's not smiling at all as he takes all this in. There's a prickle in the air, like the moisture being sucked out of it; and in the burgeoning dark, his eyes flicker with firelight. Brighter and brighter, until the whites and irises are burned away. "What the fuck are you?" he wants to know.
Rien D'Arqueness	Rien's smile suggests she's aware of that caged urge to rip and tear, to hurt. She flicks a glance towards where Canelo had called from, then back to Robbie with a lifted brow. One corner of her mouth twitches upward briefly as she pulls a drag off her cigarette. Letting the smoke stream from her nose as she takes in his reaction. Keeping one claw extended, the other two slide back inside her arm, and she draws a slow, deep line across her own cheek and jaw. A sharp, deep slash. Letting the claw slip back under the skin, she reaches up and wipes the blood from her face, flicking it carelessly off to the side. Not a mark remains on her skin, just the streaks of the blood that had welled up moments before. "I'm what happens when you mix mutant with magic so you can have an immortal demon fighter. My dad's a mutant, my mom's a sorceress. And I'm both." Rien runs her tongue across her teeth, "My grandmother summoned a demon in the 1930's that she then couldn't contain. Nor could anyone else in my family. So they sought someone who was... combat-ready and basically indestructible. And my mom slept with him so she could make sure she got pregnant. And the family made sure that I was born to be what they needed. Someone who could fight this demon, no matter how often I was killed, or dismembered, or..." She lifts a shrug and offers a half-smile, "So... I get it. I get being forced into something that sucks and not really getting a choice in the matter." Rien glances down, taking one last drag from her cigarette before flicking it expertly into the street. Exhaling slowly, she looks back to him, "I get the anger. And the frustration. And the all of it. So. You know. When you feel like you're a freak or you want someone that understands?" She motions towards herlsef and shrugs, "I'm around."
Robbie Reyes	Well, whatever answer he'd expected to get to his query, it wasn't *that*. Mind, the sight of her clawing open her own face distracts him momentarily from what she's saying. Until he realises that -- like himself -- she appears to possess vastly accelerated healing. Briefly, his eyes flare brighter; flame gutters from the socket, tissue consumed and regenerated, consumed and regenerated. For a moment it seems he might give in to it, and become the very thing she hunts down and destroys. But then it's done, and he's left trying to steady his breathing, his cigarette still burning away between his faintly trembling fingers. "I gotta think about this," he replies quietly, dragging off the smoke to steady himself a little. "I, uh." Claws. She just grew *claws* out of her hand. Like what's his name, Wolverine. "I gotta go." The cigarette's dropped to the ground, smothered with the toe of his shoe.
Rien D'Arqueness	Chuckling softly, she gives a small nod to him, "Yeah, I get that alot." Rien steps back a few paces and glances to the bike, then looks back to him, "Can I leave the bike here? Do the work when you're able." Snapping her fingers, he'll find a card in his hand, "That's my name and number. Let me know when the bike's ready to go... or if you're ready to talk. Whichever comes first." She balls up a hand, calling on magical energies, gathering them up, then throwing her hand out to open up a portal that leads to... what looks like a dingy cheap motel room. Glancing over her shoulder, Rien offers a smile, "Call me."