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Jun. 12th, 2019 09:59 pmIf you'd told Michael that he'd end up actually enjoying a new job in this city, he'd laugh in your face.
Then again, it's kind of just the old one. The boss here is pretty relaxed and laid back, so it's not that different from the work at Sanders, though at least here the boss isn't blind, so if he needs another set of eyes on a car, he gets that easily. For the most part, though, once he'd proven that he knows his shit, they leave him alone with the list of repairs for the day, let him play music through his shift (always something with guitar riffs, to keep his head calm), and Michael gets used to being inside a temperature-controlled room instead of out in the desert.
He's under a car working on a few repairs to the brakes when he hears the jangling of the bells from the front door. He's been the only one in the shop since lunch, but he doesn't mind. Honestly, he kind of prefers it. Under the car, no one can see that he's using his powers to help with his busted hand, and no one can see the way he drinks acetone to help with that pain.
"Hey, I'll be with you in a second," he calls, craning his head to the side to see the shoes of the person who just walked in.
They're decent, nice enough, but what makes him freeze is the hint of something beyond the shoe and the sock. His heart catches in his chest and all of a sudden, it's like the grief he's been ignoring comes back and slams into him. He reaches for the acetone for a chug of courage, reaching for the rag to wipe his hands, before he slowly slides out from under the car he's working on.
Huh.
He hadn't been seeing things. "...Alex," he breathes out, staggering to his feet, needing to lean on the car for support.
Then again, it's kind of just the old one. The boss here is pretty relaxed and laid back, so it's not that different from the work at Sanders, though at least here the boss isn't blind, so if he needs another set of eyes on a car, he gets that easily. For the most part, though, once he'd proven that he knows his shit, they leave him alone with the list of repairs for the day, let him play music through his shift (always something with guitar riffs, to keep his head calm), and Michael gets used to being inside a temperature-controlled room instead of out in the desert.
He's under a car working on a few repairs to the brakes when he hears the jangling of the bells from the front door. He's been the only one in the shop since lunch, but he doesn't mind. Honestly, he kind of prefers it. Under the car, no one can see that he's using his powers to help with his busted hand, and no one can see the way he drinks acetone to help with that pain.
"Hey, I'll be with you in a second," he calls, craning his head to the side to see the shoes of the person who just walked in.
They're decent, nice enough, but what makes him freeze is the hint of something beyond the shoe and the sock. His heart catches in his chest and all of a sudden, it's like the grief he's been ignoring comes back and slams into him. He reaches for the acetone for a chug of courage, reaching for the rag to wipe his hands, before he slowly slides out from under the car he's working on.
Huh.
He hadn't been seeing things. "...Alex," he breathes out, staggering to his feet, needing to lean on the car for support.
