[ Stiles isn't exactly surprised to hear that Logan feels like he owes this girl - not knowing she exists for her entire life does seem like a pretty deep hole to climb out of - and he's not surprised to be called a pain in the ass, either. He's not gonna take it, though - he huffs, hand on his hip, looking at Logan like he's gonna give him a second chance here to say something better. ]
Brave of you to talk shit when I'm armed.
[ He waggles the wet sponge at Logan, just for effect. Tread lightly. ]
[He's almost ready to let Stiles try to throw the stupid sponge just to prove his point, but he relents nonetheless. Slumping a bit lower into his seat he keeps on nursing his cigar, wishing he brought a cold beer out here because there's an ache brewing in his shoulder. He pats his pocket for his wallet, peeking into it as he speaks.]
[ That wasn't good enough, and honestly, the way Stiles squeezes the sponge in his hand makes it pretty clear that the only reason he doesn't throw this thing in Logan's face is because the whim doesn't strike him. He narrows his eyes and turns back to the car, slapping the sponge against the window. ]
Yeah, okay. Better not forget my money, old man.
[ He pointedly avoids the left, washing in clockwork circles and moving to the right, around to the front of the limo and then down the other side. There's some complaining, largely about how Stiles doesn't know how he got roped into doing physical labor for someone who's just gonna sit there and smoke and ruin his health, but he goes quiet when the sponge dips and catches on a frayed piece of metal near the back wheel. Stiles frowns - he knows what that is, these are buckshot holes, someone had it out for this car - but after darting his tongue between his lips and pretending not to notice, Stiles moves on.
But he did notice. He's probably not as subtle as he wants to be when he breaches conversation again. ]
So, uh - what'd you do back home, again? You're a driver?
[If Logan picks up on anything being amiss, he doesn't show it. He's just adjusting how he's slumped again, putting one of his legs up on an upturned milk crate on the porch that is now his footrest. Driver is one way to explain some of the shit he's done back home - but it isn't a lie, not by any means. It's just not his life's ambition, either.]
Yeah. Bachelorettes, drunk frat assholes, you name it.
[They pay, he drives, the money needed to come in some way.]
Sounds like your kind of crowd. Bet this backseat has a lot of stories to tell about all the mischief you've gotten up to. The bodyshots, the cocaine. The unprotected "tips".
[ Stiles athletic-ass-slaps the top of the car, proudly nodding his head. He finishes covering the limo in suds, and once that's done, he looks... kind of excited, actually. He's a child, and throwing the bucket of water over the car to rinse it down is just kind of-- something he's looking forward to doing? Shut up, it's fun. ]
Okay, uh.
[ He's standing in front of the car, holding the bucket by its handle. He looks at Logan like he knows this isn't gonna go anywhere, but. ]
You rely too much on me to facilitate your bullshit.
[Jokes, count downs, weird pressing questions that Logan's still king of bristled over. But he's letting the driver related hazing go and butting out his cigar in a lightly overflowing ash tray next to him before cocking his head to the side. This kid really does need to make other friends. Get laid too, probably.]
[ Wait, shit! He's actually counting him down? That three-two-one comes so fast and so suddenly that Stiles has to scramble to follow through with the knocking himself out part. He slaps his hands to the bottom of the bucket and just throws the water out, a heavy tidal wave splashing against the windshield. It doesn't rinse the car off half as much as it waters Logan's lawn and drizzle the porch he's sitting on, but Stiles is still happy, throwing his arms above his head with a very loud: ]
Woooooo!
[ Great. Done. He's gotta do it again, though. Stiles has this half-chuckling swagger as he starts filling the bucket up with water from the hose, just... generally too proud of himself for whatever this was. He could really just spray the car down with the hose, but. Nope. He sits in the damp grass and waits for the bucket to fill up again. ]
Okay, so - tell me some wild driver stories? How many serial killers have you picked up? You been mugged or anything?
[Just a lot of stupid parties, flashing brides to be and prom queens. Holding umbrellas up over grieving widows and escorting Texan bigshots across town. Up until Gabriella started tracking him down, it was a shitty but effective way of making a living while living in seclusion. Whoever the fuck started the rumor that Wolverine was now a glorified taxi cab driver kinda fucked up his whole thing. So did Transigen.]
Couple of cholos tried to steal my hub caps. That's about it.
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deerington | inbox for James "Logan" Howlett
no subject
Brave of you to talk shit when I'm armed.
[ He waggles the wet sponge at Logan, just for effect. Tread lightly. ]
no subject
[He's almost ready to let Stiles try to throw the stupid sponge just to prove his point, but he relents nonetheless. Slumping a bit lower into his seat he keeps on nursing his cigar, wishing he brought a cold beer out here because there's an ache brewing in his shoulder. He pats his pocket for his wallet, peeking into it as he speaks.]
You missed a spot to the left, by the way.
no subject
Yeah, okay. Better not forget my money, old man.
[ He pointedly avoids the left, washing in clockwork circles and moving to the right, around to the front of the limo and then down the other side. There's some complaining, largely about how Stiles doesn't know how he got roped into doing physical labor for someone who's just gonna sit there and smoke and ruin his health, but he goes quiet when the sponge dips and catches on a frayed piece of metal near the back wheel. Stiles frowns - he knows what that is, these are buckshot holes, someone had it out for this car - but after darting his tongue between his lips and pretending not to notice, Stiles moves on.
But he did notice. He's probably not as subtle as he wants to be when he breaches conversation again. ]
So, uh - what'd you do back home, again? You're a driver?
no subject
Yeah. Bachelorettes, drunk frat assholes, you name it.
[They pay, he drives, the money needed to come in some way.]
Drove around in El Paso.
no subject
[ Stiles athletic-ass-slaps the top of the car, proudly nodding his head. He finishes covering the limo in suds, and once that's done, he looks... kind of excited, actually. He's a child, and throwing the bucket of water over the car to rinse it down is just kind of-- something he's looking forward to doing? Shut up, it's fun. ]
Okay, uh.
[ He's standing in front of the car, holding the bucket by its handle. He looks at Logan like he knows this isn't gonna go anywhere, but. ]
Count me down? Just a "three, two, one, go".
no subject
[Jokes, count downs, weird pressing questions that Logan's still king of bristled over. But he's letting the driver related hazing go and butting out his cigar in a lightly overflowing ash tray next to him before cocking his head to the side. This kid really does need to make other friends. Get laid too, probably.]
Three-two-one. Knock yourself out.
no subject
Woooooo!
[ Great. Done. He's gotta do it again, though. Stiles has this half-chuckling swagger as he starts filling the bucket up with water from the hose, just... generally too proud of himself for whatever this was. He could really just spray the car down with the hose, but. Nope. He sits in the damp grass and waits for the bucket to fill up again. ]
Okay, so - tell me some wild driver stories? How many serial killers have you picked up? You been mugged or anything?
no subject
[Just a lot of stupid parties, flashing brides to be and prom queens. Holding umbrellas up over grieving widows and escorting Texan bigshots across town. Up until Gabriella started tracking him down, it was a shitty but effective way of making a living while living in seclusion. Whoever the fuck started the rumor that Wolverine was now a glorified taxi cab driver kinda fucked up his whole thing. So did Transigen.]
Couple of cholos tried to steal my hub caps. That's about it.