-- Teagan's Autobody, about 12 pm --<br/><br/>"Ah, Christ, could you keep it down!" echoed a voice from the Camaro's far side.<br/><br/>Of course Rise was here.  Of course he was messing with<span style="font-style: italic">her</span>treat,<span style="font-style: italic">Teagan's</span>treat, touching its axles, sliding its exhaust into something more comfortable.  Just like with Daisy.  And the E-type.  And the devastating, sprawling glory of the silver Saleen, with that engine that hated attention, which Rise had attacked until their savagery rattled the walls.  Afterwards it had purled hungrily at his fingers. Responsive to the lightest touch.  Tamed.  And now here he was on Teagan's build, halfway slid under the frame, which was as far as a body could get.  Teagan was cranking out screams, but by the time they reached Rise they would be soft as moans of pleasure.<br/><br/>Exhaust while on the ground meant these were the finishing touches.  All the while she'd been fighting assholes in that dingy paperwork sea Rise had been here, on the floor, with the car.  She'd assigned him the job.  She hadn't specified when it should be done, but even the Interior idiots wouldn't have touched the Camaro before Teagan did.  A woman had needs.  This car, its sleek black cut, was one.<br/><br/>The squeak of a bodgy creeper-wheel sounded behind the Camaro and Rise rose stiffly, feeling its weight in his back.  The eyes that met Teagan's were appropriately cowed.  Anything less might be lethal.  But he could hide a lot of laughter under those browns.<br/><br/>"Sorry, Boss, didn't realise that was you.  I'll leave you to it."<br/><br/>It was second shift's lunch hour, since the workers on break had been told to return.  As Rise headed to the punch station the wheelwell leaned into his hand, like a final whisper of loyalty.  He didn't seem to notice.  It had been a long day already.  Hot water was off in the R Street Apartments, maybe a bill thing, maybe a landlord's-an-ass thing, there hadn't been time to find out before work.  The waxing-moon's crappy hangover headache had not gone away.  And a rumor was spreading in the neighborhood.  People were getting uneasy.  An old acquaintance had been killed.  Not anyone important, and not that he wanted any stakes in that business anymore, but they'd put one of Rise's old friends in the hospital on the way out, two shots to the chest.  He'd resolved to go visit while on break.  Maybe there was something worth learning.<br/><br/>Teagan's jumpsuit earned a glance back over the shoulder.  Goddamn but the woman could dress.  A big fisheye mirror hung behind her, reflecting the rest of the garage and the plate windows behind Rise.  In the split second he took to notice Teagan, something flashed past the windows like a solid black streak.  And then something else - a kind of heat ripple.  Rise looked sharp to the windows.  It was gone.<br/><br/>The streak had looked like a wolf.  Bigger than anyone he'd seen.  But that shimmer was something else.  As the works scuttled away with some chunk of the Civic Rise moved past them, punching out deftly on the way.  Seemed this was a popular direction today.  He followed along at a walk.  The fleeing figures were long out of sight, but he had the uneasy feeling they'd meet again soon.<br/><br/>It was just that kind of day.