[ Jesse's just finishing his third slow lap around the busted-up van Yom handed him, he's not sure how many days ago. It's some Frankenstein’d piece of shit, but it has charm. It needs an alignment, though, hence his return to the 'yard. He hears a voice cut through the scrapyard din. Jesse turns, clocking the other guy hunched on a cinderblock and flipping through one of those useless-ass “universal” manuals they handed out like candy. The frustration’s written all over him. Jesse recognizes it. Hell, he’s lived it.
He crosses the gap between them. There's a hitch in his walk that he doesn't bother hiding. Too many nights sleeping in a car, too many mornings waking up somewhere strange, still healing from injuries from his arrival and from...before. He stops just a couple of feet away and squints down at the book in Gustave’s hands. ]
Yeah, good luck with that. Thing's like tryna learn brain surgery from a damn cereal box, man. Might s'well be written in Klingon.
[ He offers up a lopsided grin, one that’s half sympathy, half amusement. This guy’s clearly out of his depth, but Jesse’s not mocking him. If anything, he kind of gets it. Lost, overwhelmed, looking for something solid to stand on. ]
I can probably walk you through it. If you want. Got the keys?
[ There’s an ease in the way he talks, the way he moves. Being useful? That's a drug all of its own to Jesse. For a moment, he’s not a fugitive or a burnout or someone one bad decision away from an overdose. He’s just a guy who knows cars. And maybe that’s enough for now. ]
no subject
He crosses the gap between them. There's a hitch in his walk that he doesn't bother hiding. Too many nights sleeping in a car, too many mornings waking up somewhere strange, still healing from injuries from his arrival and from...before. He stops just a couple of feet away and squints down at the book in Gustave’s hands. ]
Yeah, good luck with that. Thing's like tryna learn brain surgery from a damn cereal box, man. Might s'well be written in Klingon.
[ He offers up a lopsided grin, one that’s half sympathy, half amusement. This guy’s clearly out of his depth, but Jesse’s not mocking him. If anything, he kind of gets it. Lost, overwhelmed, looking for something solid to stand on. ]
I can probably walk you through it. If you want. Got the keys?
[ There’s an ease in the way he talks, the way he moves. Being useful? That's a drug all of its own to Jesse. For a moment, he’s not a fugitive or a burnout or someone one bad decision away from an overdose. He’s just a guy who knows cars. And maybe that’s enough for now. ]