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Post by Tory Allaine on Aug 23, 2013 23:15:34 GMT -5
Victory was having a very lonely day, just sitting by herself in the commons, reading about cars and combustion engines and all the things she really wanted to end up working with. At least she thought she did. She enjoyed cars and the smell of the oil that ended up all over everything.
The general atmosphere of the garage, the clanging tools and stink and sweat, the feeling of accomplishment when you finished a job, replacing brakes or changing oil or fixing the air conditioner.
The problem was, this field was predominantly men.
The problem was that she was a tiny little girl.
The problem was that, standing at 4'10", nobody would take you seriously. No matter your position in life.
So she learned. So she read, so she trained. She knew how to fight, she knew how the mechanics, she knew how it all worked, she knew how to fix whatever problems would arise. And still. Nobody was going to take her seriously.
So why was she sitting here, cross legged on the couch with a textbook of this useless knowledge in front of her? Why was she dressed in greasy overalls with the top half slacking down over her butt, the faded inside of the denim top flopping over her lap and exposing the plain black t-shirt she wore beneath.The knees all torn and the bottom of each leg tattered. She was far too short for women's clothing.
Sitting here she had this attitude of 'fuck everybody'.
She had this air of 'I'll show them all'.
This face that said 'Just try me'.
This cute, tiny Russian woman, she was in a mood.
[/justify] |
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Post by Julian Keller on Aug 24, 2013 21:21:14 GMT -5
Julian stood out in the garage near his Camaro. True, the vehicle wasn't that old, less than a month. But Savi had taken it for a joy ride, and been properly punished for that. Still, she had taken his new baby to a not very pleasant place, all things considered, and Julian had felt the need to give the car a thorough going over and waxing. There hadn't been anything wrong with it, but he knew having been where it was car must have just felt so very dirty. That was why he had just washed and waxed the car.
Tucking the rag into his pocket Julian stood back and admired his work before removing his shirt and using it as a towel to mop the sweat from his face. It had taken awhile to get everything done that he wanted to do in order to get the car clean, and it was a hot afternoon. Still, even though he couldn't take it out anywhere until his objectionable punishment with the bird man was completed, it was at least good to know that the car was clean and ready for use.
Tossing the shirt around his neck Julian moved down the length of the garage, pushed open he door that led to the Mansion's interior, and proceeded on through into the Mansion proper. He moved quietly through the Mansion heading in the direction of the stairs that would take him to the second floor where he could find a change of clothes and grab a shower. He was just passing through one of the living rooms when he spotted her.
A rather attractive dark haired girl dressed like a grease monkey.
Turning abruptly on his heel Julian made a beeline for the girl. Coming up behind her he leaned over the back of the couch, allowing his sweat and oil stained shirt to fall down into her lap from around his neck. She had the look of a girl that would go for and be in to that kind of thing. Because he was a macho dude that knew his way around cars, and obviously she was into cars.
Judging from the reading material she was no longer perusing, cars were exactly her kinda thing.
"Hey darlin'," Julian said in a low, silky tone, reaching over a muscled arm and snaring the shirt from her lap. "Sorry 'bout that," he continued, draping the shirt back around his neck in a calculated way that was meant to get the woman to look at him.
"You look like a girl that knows her way around an engine," he continued in that same low tone, "And I'll wager my Camaro can make you purr like a delighted kitten." He winked down at the dark-haired beauty. No way was he gonna let Dolly beat him in this contest. He was not going to get beat by a girl. No chance.
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Post by Tory Allaine on Aug 27, 2013 20:07:49 GMT -5
Victory didn't look up right away when the shirt fell onto the book in her lap. She just stared blankly at it for a moment. The air around it and Julian hung thick with the smell of car wax and oil, he smelled a little musky himself.
"Ahueyet" she muttered under her breath before closing her eyes a moment and looking up at him.
He wasn't unattractive, but the way he spoke and his body language, while it worked, was very clearly meant to do something it just wasn't doing to the young mirror manipulator. She knew his type, she'd been exposed to their bullshit and every single one of them back home had ended up with a broken nose. It was very rare she didn't have something to stash in her fist as she took her punches. No, it was never a fair fight with her but she was under five feet in height. She needed to have the upper hand.
Regardless, she looked up at him, her mildly annoyed expression unchanging and let him speak until he was quite finished.
"If it is help with your vehicle that you require, pidaras, den just fucking ask for it, da? [/b]" she said in her quiet Russian tones, clearly less than pleased with his not-so-subtle drop in on her studying session. " If you want something else, pushol nahuj.[/b]" It was quite clear she wasn't in the mood for his games, and she never was. She likely never would be. There was very little that could actually succeed in getting her into the position he wanted her in, if anything at all. Tory guarded herself well. She understood that her virginity was not something she wanted to just give away, and it had served her well until this point. In short; fuck that guy and the horse he rode in on.[/justify][/blockquote] Ahueyet = What the fuck Pidaras = asshole Pushol nahuj = fuck off/fuck you |
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Post by Julian Keller on Aug 28, 2013 13:47:13 GMT -5
"Ahueyet."
'She is a tiny little thing,' Julian thought to himself, looking down at the girl as she began to gabber in some foreign language he didn't understand. What was it with people coming to America and not bother to learn the language? Still, when they were as lovely, and conveniently fun-sized,as the girl on the couch well... Julian could overlook the language barrier and flaw.
"If it is help with your vehicle that you require, pidaras, den just fucking ask for it, da? If you want something else, pushol nahuj."
'What is it with all the girls here and acting like they're hard or something,' Julian wondered to himself as Tory spoke, mixing in English and some other language. Of course, he didn't need any help with his car but when that help was coming from such an attractive angle well... who was he to say no?
"I don't speak gobbledy gook," Julian said, grinning down a the little dark-haired girl, "and, at the moment, I don't need any help with my Camaro right now," he continued, winking down at Tory, "but I'll keep you in mind, darlin'."
"And there's no need to be so icy, sweetness," Julian continued, slipping one of his hands down onto Tory's shoulder. "I don't think I've done anything to really deserve that kind of treatment," he continued, grinning down at Tory.
"I just assumed we might share a few interests, that's all." Julian made a mock pouty face down at Tory. "I come over, trying to be friendly, and you read me the riot act... I can't imagine why."
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Post by Tory Allaine on Aug 29, 2013 22:14:01 GMT -5
Tory looked back up at Julian from her book as she slammed it shut. Her hand kept moving up to swipe his from off her shoulder.
She had not invited him to touch her.
She looked him square in the eyes, her grey orbs staring like steel into his.
"It is Russian, not dis, gobbledy gook... [/b]" she said, her cold tone unchanging and her body language remaining as aloof as ever it was. " I am unsure dis 'riot act' of which you speak but, I am aware of your type. You are 'pretty', da? De kind off pretty where is clear you are aware of. You seem arrogant, walking here with no shirt on. Your type, you are only after one thing. Believe me when I say; not interested. Out of courtesy, I would not deny you help with car, but any advances will be met with fist.[/b]" She spoke the truth, her words were lined with cold steel. She was not fucking around, and that much should have been clear.[/justify][/blockquote] |
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Post by Julian Keller on Sept 2, 2013 17:46:38 GMT -5
"It is Russian, not dis, gobbledy gook... I am unsure dis 'riot act' of which you speak but, I am aware of your type. You are 'pretty', da? De kind off pretty where is clear you are aware of. You seem arrogant, walking here with no shirt on. Your type, you are only after one thing. Believe me when I say; not interested. Out of courtesy, I would not deny you help with car, but any advances will be met with fist."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Julian replied, holding up his hands in mock defense and taking a few steps back while arranging his features into a look of mild affront. Always the attacks, what was with all the girls around here, anyway? Surely Dolly wasn't ruining his reputation.
"Of course I'm pretty," the teen continued, returning to stand behind the couch and lean against the back of it, lazily dropping a hand, once more, onto Tory's shoulder. "But then again, you are too and I'll bet you know that just as well as I do," he continued, waggling a finger at her.
"As for the shirt, I've just come in out of the hot sun from working on my car. I'm sure you notice the smell, da," Julian asked, trying out the one word of Russian that he knew, "I needed something to wipe my face with before going to clean up. I didn't plan to stop and chat but I spotted you here, reading that," he pointed down at the book in her lap, "and I said to myself, 'Self, I bet that girl an' me got some stuff in common.' So, I wander over to introduce myself and you jump down my throat and just attack and I can't, for the life of me, figure out what I've done to deserve that," he continued, arranging his features into a hurt look and omitting the word 'today' from the end of the sentence.
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