new npc get! (closed, incomplete)

[mrcharlatan]

Characters: simonsimmon and mrcharlatan
Setting/Location: SOMEWHERE MYSTERIOUS AND CLOSE with a workshop
Date & Time: Day 13, evening~Day 14, morning
Warnings: PG-13 for Charlie's foul mouth?
Summary: We're gonna hijack an airship, seeeee?

Comments

[simonsimmon]

"Charlie," Simon said scornfully, frowning. "You can't expect customers to take you seriously when your shop is a mess." He waved his hand, then, sauntered past the man and further into the shop, picking up the sweet tang of metal the further he ventured. "I need your ship, old chap. Whether or not you come along is up to you, I just need it. I'll learn how to fly it on the wayside." He rubbed at the underside of his nose, skewing his mask to the side slightly and taking his time to quickly right it, gazing at himself in the reflection of a nearby piece of sheet metal.

"Do you remember how Cid and I are doing the whole, you know, take the offworlders to Loopholder using Grandore and all that?" Simon turned on his heel, walking carefully back over to the metalworker as he wrung his fingers. "Well, they appear to have gotten themselves captured by... sirens. And I need your ship to go rescue them from the trials at Moorentide." The last sentence came out in a bit of a rush, and Simon took a deep breath, chuckled, and smiled. "Now, where is the ship? And can you point out to me the start button? I wasn't paying much attention last time. And that felt like so long ago, old boy."

[mrcharlatan]

"Customers don't come in the workshop, they contact me over the Junogam and I meet 'em somewhere else. It's none of your business anyway." His scowl deepened further as the shorter man followed, listening as best he could until his temper could rise no further. "There's no way you're taking my ship to gallivant off by yourself, especially not to mess with sirens. Where there's sirens, there's salt. You know what that'd do to my fucking airship!?"

But... well, he did have a bit of a soft spot for those newcomers all the time. That's how he ended up with his dog, after all. There was a side glance to the old boy with one metal hind leg strapped onto his rear, who gave a few thumps of his curled tail and hobbled over to Simon, taking Charlie's glance as a sign of permission.

"Good will doesn't pay for shit, you know. If I do this I'm doing it all the way. There's always work on that damm caravan, isn't there? That offer still open for a head mechanic and a guard dog?"

And then, after a moment of further consideration and another drag from his cigarette, he continued, "And how many people're we talkin'? That airship doesn't hold very many people, especially if they're fatasses."

[simonsimmon]

"It's not like we're going to rub it in the ocean," Simon retorted, face scrunching up strangely at the thought before he heard the animal hobble over. "Oh," he said, crouching down in front of the pup and cupping its face in his hands. "Who's my mangy beast? You're my mangy beast." He began scratching behind the animal's ears, ignoring Charlie's crass words for a brief moment to pay the dog some true attention. "You wouldn't make a very good guard dog, old chap," he spoke to him, patting his head, "unless you threatened others off with your intense amount of slobbering, eh?"

He glanced over at Charlie then before standing to his full height. Usually they'd have to go through interviews and paperwork - but considering this was an emergency, Simon figured he could go ahead and offer Charlie the job. Besides, there was no one else best suited for it - though the caravan was not as advanced as the other pieces Charlie worked on, it still needed love and care all the same. And from time to time a good washing.

"I don't remember any of our travelers being too hideously overweight this time," Simon mused. "But we need to fetch fourteen persons. Average sized, I suppose. One is quite small, actually." He paused. "Does this mean you're going to help out, then?"

[mrcharlatan]

Charlie scratched at the stubble along his jawline, the rough leather gloves producing a sandpaper rasp as he did so. That idiot wasn't even listening to him. "I'll tell you what salt does. Salt rusts metal, whether you get it wet or not. It carries on the wind and'll eat the outside of my ship right up. Only a professional can avoid crap like that, and it'll still need a thorough washin' afterward."

The short mechanic scowled up as Simon straightened, with all the attitude of a giant squaring his features. He exhaled cigarette smoke through his nostrils in a huff before removing the butt from his lips and dropping it, grinding out the glowing remnants with the heel of his heavy boot. "Only if we got ourselves a deal."

He didn't even wait for a reply though, before he was off collecting one-of-a-kind tools he'd created himself and tossing them into a ragged rucksack, grabbing anything he thought he'd need-- including a pouch full of aluminum oxide powder. His personal belongings went into a threadbare suitcase, which took even less time. He had maybe three changes of clothes, a set of formalwear, another pair of boots, a bathrobe, and a straight razor. All in all it took him maybe fifteen minutes to get his necessities together and he was walking back through the workshop, clucking his tongue and making a twirling motion with one hand. Dog took the guttural click as a sign to get moving, and Simon had better recognize what the get-a-move-on twirl was before he was left behind.

There was barely enough room to open the doors to the small hangar-- although by hangar, it was really just a glorified garage with a patchwork roof-- which led directly to the door of the small airship. Charlie took a split second to run up the few boarding stairs and open the door for Dog before tossing his bags in and going back around the airship, just enough room to squeeze by on either side to get to the barn-style doors.

They opened onto an overcast sky working its way towards twilight. Charlie boarded the small airship and grabbed a rather fancy pilot's coat from a hanger and pulled it on, lowering the goggles on his head and tossing the jury-rigged welder's helmet add-on to the back. Once Simon had boarded, the mechanic pulled up the boarding stairs and shut the door, cranking the wheel to lock it shut before moving back to the furnace to get it started.

"Hope you're ready for the ride of your life, Simon."

[simonsimmon]

You're not a professional? Simon questioned internally, eyebrow hiking up far enough to slip under the cover of his mask. But he knew, already, that Charlie had made up his mind. He continued to pet the dog as the other man went about gathering his things, and when the dog trotted away, he followed. Simon had to be thankful that Charlie had made both of the doors tall, considering not many foreigners were as small as either of them. He shimmied himself into one of the seats, tugging absent mindedly at some threads that had been stressed away from the seams.

He hummed at Charlie's statement, pulling the belt attached to the seat across his lap and notching the metal loop through one of the holes in the leather. "I hope we don't crash," he said dryly, nose crinkling slightly at the smell of the furnace. "Otherwise I'll find a voodoo man to resurrect us just so I can kill you myself." He folded his arms across his chest, wondering if he should have recognized the fact that he was slightly uncomfortable with the flight machines before coming to seek Charlie's help. Oh, well. It was a little bit too late for that now, wasn't it? And it would be the fastest way to get to the coast and pull those travelers from the maze.