Owner	Pose
Robbie Reyes	S&K Auto Parts has been in business for the better part of a quarter century. Located in a rougher part of Queens -- which should say something, given it's Queens -- the business has one tiny outbuilding with a sign on the door saying OFFICE, and is staffed by an older gentleman who doesn't seem to give a shit that it's late July in New York. He's wearing a paisley sweater vest over a nice shirt and pants, and occasionally monitors the comings and goings of people through his 'yard. The salvage here is good, and the prices are even better, which is pretty much Robbie Reyes's bottom line. He's perched atop an ancient Chevy Malibu in mint green, which is itself sitting at the top of a pile of about four wrecks. The leanly built young man sports dark hair that's been buzzed off at the sides, shredded black jeans and combat boots, a black muscle tank that exposes plenty of sun-bronzed skin, and ink of some sort visible down his right arm. There's also a rather immaculate black '69 Charger parked just inside the gate with its trunk open, very clearly not for sale. The kid's currently turning an alternator over in his grease-stained hands, frowning as he considers it.
Mercy Thompson	Mercy has gone to Queens for parts before. This time it is a new place, but she has a big project coming up and can tell she's going to need a lot of parts. Right now she's looking for all she should need to do an engine swap on a car. What she pulls up into the yard is about as far from Robbie's '69 Charger as you get.     Mercy drove her old looks like tape and good wishes holds it together '64 VW Type 2. You know the van with no nose and looks like a hot dog? Yeah that one. She doesn't normally drive it but it has more room in it for parts.     The woman gets out in jeans and a tee after parking next to the Charger and pauses to admire the car a moment. Curiosity always one of her things, she can't help but peek at the trunk and give the car a slow circle to look it over.
Robbie Reyes	Looks like he's been at this for a little while, already: there's a wheel base, a box of wiring, an engine mount and a couple of cylinder heads, and another box of brake calipers inside the trunk. The car itself is sticks out like a sore thumb here; it's in absolutely mint condition, not so much as a scratch in its glossy paint. Original everything except the LED lights, and the 18 inch alloy rear wheels. Oh, and the BDS supercharger mounted on the hood. "You need somethin'?" Robbie calls out from atop his pile of cars. He doesn't move yet, but he sure is watching Mercy like a hawk-- after a brief sussing out of her ride.
Mercy Thompson	Mercy looks up and says, "Just admiring." Taking a polite step back. "I got curious what you had in the trunk. Figured if you been here maybe you can point me to some parts." Mercy begins to walk around the Charger toward Robbie's perch. "Don't suppose you saw any Opel's in here? Or anything that looked to be a good small 6 cyl block?"     Mercy doesn't normally like having to be upwind from someone new, and he's got elevation on her. It's causes her to shift a bit more weight to her toes and widen her stance a bit subconsciously. "Did you do any of that work yourself," adding to her questions? "Looks well taken care of."
Robbie Reyes	"Just some junk," Robbie replies, voice a low, lazy rumble. Some kind of accent in there, mostly East LA with a sprinkle of Texas. He doesn't take his eyes off her as she approaches, and doesn't smile either. "You think I'd trust my baby to anyone else?" An indirect answer, but an answer nonetheless. Then, "Catch." He lobs the alternator to her easily, and swings down from the heap of cars he'd been sunning himself on. His boots hit the dirt solidly, no sign of being bothered by the long drop. "Depends on whether you'd settle for a Buick, I guess."
Mercy Thompson	Maybe the wind shifted, or Mercy's brain finally pays attention to what her body is trying to tell her because the woman coughs a bit and rubs at her nose with the back of a finger some. "Lot of people drive nice cars and couldn't change a tire." She says through a tighter voice as she coughs a few times and blows out her nose as if to clear it some.     She finishes just in time to snatch the alternator one handed and avoid dropping it. "Rather not use a Buick if I could. That's going to be way too much of a big block for what I got in mind or my client." She will hold out the part when he gets closer. "I'm Mercy, what's your name?"
Robbie Reyes	"Well, they ain't me." There is definitely something *very* wrong about him. The kid looks innocuous enough, if a tad street punk-- what with the tattoos, the flash of pierced tongue she may or may not have spotted, and the half inch gauges in his ears. But there's something.. cloying hanging about him. The unmistakeable smell of demon; and it's *strong*. Whatever he's posssessed by, it's on the more potent side. The part's accepted back without him taking his eyes off her. "Nice to meet you, Mercy." He gives her an upnod. "Robbie. Hate to break it to you, but I don't think you're gonna find what you're lookin' for here."
Mercy Thompson	Mercy has no leg to stand on if tattoos are a sign of trouble. She's got plenty of them herself. She's smelled demon before but this is really strong and she's having to fight down any other reaction. Taking careful shallow slow breaths.     "Never know unless you try. I always got extra jobs and don't mind getting some spare parts for my garage if the price is right."     When he gives her his name she frowns some however. "Don't suppose you got a girlfriend name Rien?" Mercy is usually not one to be anything but direct.
Robbie Reyes	"Saw a Fiat, and a couple of BMWs back that way," Robbie points out, jerking his head to the left. *Still* without taking his eyes off hers. The alternator's tossed lightly in his hand, then used to gesture to Mercy. "You feelin' okay? Seem a little.." He makes a moue with his mouth. And then he stills at the question, tension creeping into his broad shoulders. "Yeah. What's it to you?"
Mercy Thompson	Mercy is trying to fight what growing up with werewolves does in reading body language. Gabby mentioned something about eyes, but she can't be too relaxed around a demon. Even if somehow it is suppose to be a not all bad demon. "Gabby mentioned your name to me the other day," her voice even and calm as she can make. Even if her own body is starting to tense up because of this whole situation.     Mercy will work to swallow her body's reaction to all this and then adds. "I met her first as some piano blues played," stressing the word blue noticeably to try and hint at the Velvet Room without being obvious or where a camera may be on them. Belatedly she also remember to say, "appreciate the tip on the BMWs, definitely will check it out in a bit."
Robbie Reyes	"Gabby? Oh." He seems relax a little at that. Not entirely, but the cording in his biceps and forearms dissipates considerably, and the tightness in his jaw eases a fraction. "Yeah, she's my girlfriend's sister." He doesn't seem to clue into the 'piano blues', though. "You sure you're okay?" He runs his tongue along his lower lip, and finally shifts his gaze away, then back again. "Heat'll take you down fast, you ain't drinking enough water. Got some in my car, if you need it."
Mercy Thompson	"Wait?! Rien and Gabby are siblings? How did I not know that?!" This revelation helping to pop the tension in Mercy. Mostly. The scent from the car and Robbie himself is a little difficult to get used to.     "Oh I'm fine, Robbie I just." Mercy tries to think of a polite way to say this. "Your passenger is giving me issues. But yeah, Gabby mentioned you the other day as the guy who helped keep her bike running well." She will motion to the car, "assuming this is all actual work as well. This is solid stuff."
Robbie Reyes	His passenger. That gives Robbie pause for a moment; probably because he's still getting accustomed to the fact that he can't go completely incognito in a city like this. A city with its fair share of metahumans capable of giving him a run for his money. "It's a long story. You should probably ask for their version of it." Rien of course, is not and never has been blonde, so he doesn't point out that the pair look *nothing* alike. "Yeah, Gabby brings her bike in sometimes. I try to keep her purring like a kitten." He pauses, flushing just a little under his freckles. "The bike, I mean." After another, even more awkward hesitation, he ventures, "Sorry about that. My, uh. My passenger."
Mercy Thompson	"I assumed you met the bike. So do you like Robbie, Rob, or something like Bobby?" Since that name can go a lot of ways. She rubs at her nose once and says, "I don't know the whole story. Normally I say, get help. But that isn't my place exactly and if you can get to the room with the blues piano playing. Then it can't be all bad."     She is getting to where her nose is a bit more numb to the smell or at least not choking her as much. "I got a sensitive nose and it picks up on that stuff. Smelled it on the car first. SO do you freelance or work somewhere when you are doing stuff? This looks like you are setting up for more then a tune up." Mercy maybe asking more questions then answering but she's not meaning to interrogate Robbie.
Robbie Reyes	He makes a bit of a face at the variations on his name. "Robbie's fine. Just don't call me Mr. Reyes, or I'll think you're talkin' about my dad." He looks like he might smile, but then.. doesn't. And assuming she follows him, he starts trudging back to his car with the alternator, meaning perhaps to stow it with the other parts he's picked out. "You ask a lotta questions, Mercy," he points out, glancing back at her over his shoulder as he moves. "I work at Canelo's, in Brooklyn. Been there four years now. And what exactly you mean by help?" He leans into the trunk, rummaging around to find a spot for the alternator. "Why do I need help?"
Mercy Thompson	"Robbie it will be then," says Mercy easily enough. She's doing her best to shift her body language to be relaxed and to keep things low key. She will follow toward his car some and nods her head, "I do. It's a habit of mine where I let my curiosity get the better of me. Don't always know I'm doing it either."     Mercy isn't familiar with that shop so well but anywhere you work for four years means you don't suck at it. "Well most people would not want a passenger like you have. But again, I don't know your situation and it isn't my place to pry so much."     Mercy will lean against her van some as he digs into his trunk some. "I'm still meeting people that are part of the extended group. There's a lot to take in. I'd say I've spent most of my time with Cael though." Yeah she's shifting the topic off of her some, but it feels the safer route.
Robbie Reyes	Well, that doesn't really answer his question. Which seems to annoy him slightly. Robbie finishes shoving the part into the back of his car, and straightens, wiping his grease-stained hands off on the thighs of his jeans. He considers his collection of junk for a moment, then glances across to Mercy. He's squinting slightly due to the sun in his eyes. "Ain't no extended group. It's just a group. Guess someone's gotta deal with this shit." Supernatural threats and whatnot. "So how do you know Cael?"
Mercy Thompson	"Well I met them after I got my member's key if you will." Mercy then goes on to explain, "I was raised with some real outdoor types that tended to have a pretty intense monthly survival trip on the full moon." She starts to look around to be sure they are alone and not on camera too much, "werewolves."     That matter made clear Mercy says, "because of that I know about Cael's situation some and was helping her deal with last full moon. Teaching her some tricks and trying to help her understand some of what is going on." She reaches into a window of her van to pull out a spare rag and tosses it his way, "catch." Giving him something to wipe up on. "Though ever since her boyfriend had his injury she seems a bit wound up and distracted," admits Mercy.
Robbie Reyes	Turnabout's fair play, apparently. Even if Robbie isn't paying attention in the slightest, and gets smacked in the side of the head with the tossed rag. Some honed and sharpened apex predator *he* is. "Uh. Thanks." He bends to fetch it, and uses it to clean the grease from some of the harder-to-reach places, like under his short nails. Then he's back to watching her, now with a considerably more critical eye when she mentions werewolves. "I think we're all a bit wound up right now," he confides. "Anyone bothered to tell you what's been goin' on?" And then, as if reading her mind, "Camera at two o'clock, but it ain't lookin' at us. You can talk freely, if you want."
Mercy Thompson	"Not really. Just after the moon, Cael got a call and got um... spirited away to parts unknown. I saw her after and heard Jon got hurt. Other then that I've been working in my shop." Mercy shrugs a bit and spreads her hands. How much can you do after all? "I am still getting used to all of this stuff. Got the parts you needed?" Mercy will shop later it seems and knows this is not the best place.
Robbie Reyes	"Yeah, well, that's been goin' around. People getting hurt." He finishes up with the rag, and lobs it back. "Got what I came for, and then some. The exotic stuff, yeah, you're better off trying the 'yard across town. Yakov's? It's smaller, but he carries a lot of hard to find parts." The trunk of his car is slammed shut, keys given a spin on their loop as he walks around to the driver's side door, and takes a lean there. "Which shop's yours, then?"
Mercy Thompson	Mercy will catch the rag and smile at Robbie. The first one she's been able to manage. "I'll definitely give them a look. There's a few others I got leads on, but I may have to really be putting in some calls."     She swallows her unease and walks over to the car and Robbie hand him a card, "Mercy's in Harlem." She will let him have it if he wants. She's been busy of late. "It isn't big and I almost always work on German and more classic cars." Nodding to the VW in question.
Robbie Reyes	"You work for yourself, then." He seems impressed, and after a pause to consider her, reaches for the card. It's turned over so he can check out the other side briefly, then slid into the back pocket of his jeans. "I gotta get back to work." He pushes off the side of the car, unlocks it, and pauses a moment before sliding in. "I'll catch you around, Mercy." A quick wink, and he disappears inside, slams the door, and fires up the engine with a throaty growl. Then the beast is rumbling off, kicking up a haze of dust in its wake.
Mercy Thompson	Mercy nods her head, "It's small but it is my shop. All mind. Well the bank's but I'm my own boss." The card she handed over is just a standard business card, nothing more to it then that. "Drive safe out there and I'll see you around." She steps away from his car and toward her own.