some advice?

who: roy and dutch
where: the garage
when: late

Despite knowing better, sometimes it never seemed like Dutch could run out of work. On any given day, he would be at the garage from open to close, committing hour after hour to both the hands-on work and the ordering that kept the place running. He, along with the boys on his crew that he trusted, would crack open cars' panels and dashes, check tire wells, and find false trunk spaces, then catalog whatever dirty little secrets were inside.

When the shop closed? Sometimes he went home, spending another few hours working on whatever odd jobs the other tenants of his building might need. Other times he'd go to the Round, catch a good and heady drunk buzz, and wander the streets hoping to see Cheyenne. Really, his dinner with Evelyn had been an exception in a lot of ways.

Today in particular was part of the norm: almost all of the crew had gone home, the vast majority of the shop was cleaned and serviced, but there was still work to do. Dutch had a delivery to make. He'd been siphoning liquor from the distillery tanks upstairs for the last half hour, filling reused jugs of amber glass with both the homebrewed gin and the rougher stuff that everyone just dubbed 'moonshine', lugging them down crate by crate to pile into the back of his own car. He wasn't done yet either, backing through the door into the garage with two crates stacked high and gripped in meaty hands.

Roy happened to have stuck around later than the other guys, finishing up a few things, sort of just doing it at his own pace. He'd been under the impression that everyone had gone, but when he headed back inside from working out back, he aw that wasn't the case. He watched Dutch moving a crate, and he walked over to help a little. "Thought everyone'd gone home. But I finished up the starter on the heap out back." he said, to explain his presence.

There was no ego that kept Dutch from taking the help, and he gave a little grunt of acknowledgment as Roy helped move the load. "Good work," he said gruffly, "Probably too good. A wreck like that? Well, not like we'll be gettin' a timely payment on the work." Not that it had ever stopped Dutch from doing the job; he and the others all knew that plenty of people in the city barely had two dimes to rub together, and if a working car could get them more? Well, there was always Dutch's private funds to keep his staff paid. "Oughta be gettin' the rest of the parts we'll need on Monday, I'll help you power through the rest of the work when they get here."

"Yes, sir." Roy said, as usual, polite and respectful. He coughed a little, though he was getting a whole lot better. It was nearly gone now, that sickness he'd had going on having made something of a fast retreat when he'd had actual medicine to take. He still needed to get Arden something for her trouble. Then he kind of wondered if Dutch would know more about that kind of thing than he did. "...if I wanted to get gifts for some girls I know, but didn't have much money for it, and it wasn't something..." he made a vague gesture hoping to convey the word 'romantic'. "What should I be looking for?"

The question had actually stopped Dutch from rebuking Roy for calling him 'sir', a title that always felt awkward. He didn't blame the kid for it, but he wasn't wild about it either. Still, there wasn't time to correct it with Roy waiting for an answer, and once they'd loaded the current crate into the back of the car, Dutch seemed to consider what to say. "Depends," he rumbled, "What're the gifts for? Birthday? Or are these girls doin' you a good turn that you wanna pay back?" He figured it was the latter; Roy had been sick for a handful of days now, he'd shown up fairly battered from what Dutch had guessed was a fight, who knew what the kid got up to when he wasn't wearing his overalls?

"The second one." Roy said. "Arden brought me some stuff, and D could use something to cheer her up a little, and Pepper maybe too...I don't know. And one of the ladies at the library was real nice to me earlier, helped me get something for my sister. But I don't have a lot." It wasn't like he made much. Not from running numbers or from working part time at the shop. Not that he was asking for a hand out, since he wasn't. He just wanted suggestions.

"Little early in life to be puttin' on the St. Nick costume," Dutch said wryly as he shut his car doors. He had enough for the Round to last a while, maybe four or five days. "Pepper's been doin' good work around here, so whatever you opt for with her? I'll cover that tab," he went on with a nod, serious there. The street kid had been reliable about keeping the shop clean when he needed her to, she'd earned something. "Still... what to get 'em? You know what they all like? You... know how to cook, maybe? There's not a dame alive who doesn't like a meal cooked for her."

He wasn't doubting Roy when he assumed the younger man likely couldn't cook, just figuring in his own head that other suggestions would probably be more helpful. "If not, flowers're good, but a little mixed message if you're not sweet on 'em. That's true of a lot of stuff, though. Candy, a malt, a trip to the Apollo, you name it and someone can take it wrong," he explained with a smirk, wondering if that was a danger with Roy and Pepper, or the other two girls.

"Not really." Roy said, rubbing the back of his neck a little. "Plus, I don't have a kitchen." he had a bank vault. Not the same thing. "...yeah, that's kinda my problem. I don't want to give anyone the wrong idea. And Arden's just a kid, and...yeah. I wanna do somethin, but can't figure out what. I've been thinkin on it all day, i just haven't come up with anything. Thought you might have a better idea." Pepper he was pretty sure would try to kick his ass if he did anything she thought was flirting. Arden...yeah. She was a little girl. That was creepy enough of a thought to turn his stomach.

Dutch leaned up against the frame of his car, patting down the stained jumper he wore for work to find his cigarettes. "With Pepper, I think I do," he said eventually, tucking a smoke to his lips and striking a match to life. Dutch puffed his cigarette as he held the flame to it, thinking back to when he'd first met Pepper on the streets and what she'd talked about. "The other two? Well, I don't really know that Arden kid too well... but Pepper? Take her somewhere nice. She's sharp enough that if you're not flirtin', she won't think you are. An' I know she'd like it. Maybe grab a bite up at the Drake, I could get you a table." And pick up the check too, though he'd already said as much.

The Drake Roy wasn't sure he was cool with. It was where he sometimes had to go to run errands for people, and he'd fixed things at the hotel before. But he knew who owned it and everything, and he didn't know that he wanted them seeing him with Pepper then wondering who she was. "Think she'll not take it wrong?" Roy asked, unsure. "I'm pretty sure she'd try to kick my ass if she thought anything funny was going on." he said seriously. And he wanted to do something nice, not start a fight.

"I think if you kept it simple and told her you heard the food was great, she'd be in," Dutch answered, nodding affirmatively. He could recall Pepper's wide-eyed musings about how elegant it must've been there on New Year's Eve, even if he'd been agonizingly hung over at the time. She wanted to see how he other half lived, it was obvious. "Concierge's a friend of mine, so it's not like there'd be any hassle over dressin' up fine either," he went on reassuringly, quite positive that neither of them would have a wardrobe that met the Drake's standards. It wasn't their world any more than it was Dutch's. "In my experience? The best gift's the one that lets you forget your problems for a while," he explained, "Ownin' nice stuff's fine and all, but it's just stuff. But a break from the grind? Fuckin' priceless."

Roy thought about that, wondering how he could apply it to things, considering he didn't have the money to take anyone away from anything for any length of time. Even if Dutch was talking about picking up the tab for Pepper. And Arden...well. She had means. When she hung out with the street kids, that girl was slumming it. Lily...same thing. She was a nice woman, and definitly didn't look like she had a hard life. Then there was Madeline. With her dreams about getting a house someday. He didn't realize he was a little too deep in thought, and didn't answer Dutch.

Dutch saw the strain in Roy's eyes, and though he meant no offense by it? He couldn't help a grim smirk. He recognized that look, it was the same one that had pushed him to become more than a numbers-runner for his family all those years ago. It wasn't necessarily a good thing to see, even if he thought that Roy would have good intentions fueling it. "Try lookin' at it from their end," he advised, "Not with what you can afford, but what they'd want. My wife..." He fell quiet for a moment, the smile twisting with melancholy at the topic Dutch rarely discussed. "My wife, 'fore we were hitched? She always wanted to see what the presses in the Echo looked like, how they made the paper and all that. So one night we bought a pair of sandwiches and snuck in the back door, camped out right in the Echo's belly until the staff found us. Cost us two bits for the sandwiches, but she always said it was one of the best nights of her life."

Roy looked up as he listened, taking that on board. "That's something you did with someone you wanted to spend your life with though." he said. He was still worried about giving the wrong impression. That and he was aware if he gave it too much with Madeline, Dodge might take more offense, and he had already jumped him with his little gang and had them hold him while he took free shots, and that was when he hadn't done a damn thing to offend the guy. Or, in Roy's mind, he hadn't. he'd definitely said a few things that day that were offensive, but the original bit? Roy hadn't done anything. He didn't want to give Dodge any more excuses to show up and make things worse. And he couldn't think of any reason why he wouldn't. Again, his thoughts showed on his face, even if he didn't give them voice.

"Didn't know I wanted to back then, but I get your point," Dutch conceded, "Back then? She was just the daughter of one of my old man's friends, I was tryin' to keep her out of trouble." Lingering on the subject would do him no good mentally, and Dutch had already planned to stay at the Round for a bit and see how his newest batches from the distillery turned out. Doing so with old wounds on his mind was bound to be trouble. "I guess what I'm sayin' is that you get back what you put in. Think of it in terms of buying, and you're settin' value. And maybe some of these girls'd just like goin' to see a show, or walking Fontaine Park. It's the intent that really counts, Roy. Try doing something good for your friends, they'll notice." It was simpler at that age, at least looking back on it in hindsight. "Hopefully nothin' that gets you more banged up, too," Dutch added with a smirk, "What happened there, anyway? I didn't want to ask in front of the boys."

"Something tells me that I'm probably not going to be able to avoid that much." Roy said, sighing as he leaned back against one of the worktops. "I'm fine." he added, because he didn't want to seem incapable. But then again, he'd showed up for work sick as a dog, too. "Some people think they're better than they are." he said, knowing that wasn't a very good answer, but it was the one he had.

Dutch snorted back a laugh, nodding again as he butted his cigarette on the sole of his shoe. "I'm pretty sure that's the city's goddamn motto," he agreed bitterly, not pressing the point. He knew he was just the boss with Roy, but if the trouble was bad enough? He'd want to help. "I figure you must've given back some pain, though," Dutch went on approvingly, with the air of a seasoned brawler. Roy seemed like a scrappy kid, and the quiet ones were always the surprises you hated to discover in the middle of a fight.

"Some." Roy admitted. "Doesn't usually matter much though when it's a whole gang." And for no good reason. Okay so he was still pissed about the whole thing, and still waiting for Dodge to show up with more of his boys, telling him to stay away from Madeline. Or whatever else he decreed, because he thought he could.

The mention of a gang was more than enough to stand out to Dutch, to raise his hackles a little bit. He'd known about Roy's minor errands for the DiGiovanni for some time now, but the kid was too low on the food chain to even earn official punishment from the people he worked for. Which, in Dutch's mind, left bad possibilities. "They Russian? Chinese?" he asked simply, hoping that Roy hadn't gotten mixed up with some Konovich lieutenant. They were always the sort who liked to strongarm their way to making a point, whether they were Konovich or DiGiovanni.

Glancing up, Roy shook his head. "No." he said. "...Dodge. Some little punk who thinks he owns the streets." he explained, wondering if Dutch had heard of him. It was possible. But then again, he didn't know how far Dodge's 'fame' carried, either. Dodge just thought he was gods goddamn gift to Eidolon, but that didn't mean he was.

Well, that relieved the tension Dutch had picked up, earning another snorted laugh. "They all think they do, Roy," Dutch confided as he shook his head. He didn't think he'd ever heard of the kid, but with as many would-be players as there were in the city? That wasn't surprising. Some days it seemed like Dutch was one of the few who didn't want to make a name for himself. "Never heard of him, either, but if I do I'll see if I can't put a scare into him." Dutch wouldn't actually beat on a kid, not even if they were Roy's age, but spooking them? That might be worth a laugh.

"I can take care of myself, sir." Roy said. Plus, he thought that that might have the same result as Madeline talking to Dodge about it all. Dodge might just use it as another excuse. People could only protect you if they were there, if they held any sway at all. And Roy spent one hell of a lot of time alone. he lived in a bank vault, which sure, he'd rigged, but that didn't mean someone couldn't un-rig it, then shut him up in there. He'd suffocate. He was aware. People had to deal with their own problems, as far as he was concerned. Meddling got people into trouble. And a lot of times it wasn't the meddlers who paid for it.

"Fair enough." It wouldn't stop Dutch from offering, but if the offer got declined? He could let it drop. Roy seemed self-reliant to a fault, which Dutch could get, and with people who worked like that? Insisting on helping was an insult in it's own way. "You just let me know if there's a storm brewing. 'Round here we gotta watch out for each other." And sure, Dutch didn't go out of his way to espouse that view, but he lived as true to it as he could. There were just too many of the disparate and unacknowledged in the city. "And you do know it's just Dutch, right? I'm not 'sir' to nobody."

"I was taught to respect people." Roy said honestly. It had been ingrained well. By his father, his mother, his aunts and uncles. He was polite, and he respected people, and that was the way it was. He wasn't sure he could really function another way, he agreed with the wisdom of it. "...though you're not the only person 'round me that tends to not like it much."

Dutch shook his head, chuckling slightly. "Not disapprovin' at all. Respect? Hell, Roy... you don't get much more respect than omerta. My pa? He raised me the same, back in a time when most folks did like that. Called people sir or ma'am, pulled out a lady's chair, the whole nine... good to see it survivin'," he noted, "But me? Well, if you want me to know you respect me, just say so and be how you want to be. I'm not my pa." Dutch sighed, shaking his head as he reminisced on simpler times for a moment. "And if you want to keep at it? Hell, I'll survive."

Roy gave a light smile. "Yes sir." he said. He always felt strange when people told him to stop. He needed to be far more familiar with someone to really get into a name thing. Names were important to him, really. Like he never called his sister 'Mar' even if he knew some of the people at the diner did. And once he'd learned D's name, whenever it was just them, he was sure to call her Madeline. Names held power, of their own. or, that was how he thought about it.

"Sorry I couldn't be much help, too," Dutch added, moving to the short bay of cubby holes where his crew stored coats and the like to find his own, digging the keys out of one pocket. "Me and ladies, even ones I'm just being friendly to? Not exactly a common overlap," he said, smirking and moving back to his car, "But you'll sort something out, I'm bettin'. C'mon, let's put this place to rest 'til tomorrow, I'll give you a lift where you're goin'. Weather out there? It's not fit for a dog."

Roy glanced out the grimey window, then decided he'd take the ride. "Just drop me by the old bank building. I can walk from there." he said. Granted, he lived at the old bank building, so walking there wouldn't actually have to happen, but he wasn't going to straight up admit that he lived in an abandoned building. Even if he figured Dutch suspected he was homeless and all, it was different for people to think it and know it. "Thank you, sir. Much appreciated." he put onto the end of that, genuine sentiment there.

There was definitely the suspicion there, but even if Roy confirmed it? Dutch wouldn't mind one bit. Pepper was a street kid, and neither she or Roy was the first one with nowhere to go who'd found work in Occam Automotive. With a little time, if they could stick to the job? They could change their situation. He'd never admit it, but Dutch liked knowing he could try and provide that chance. "Any time, Roy, any time," Dutch said as he tugged his door open, "'Specially if you need a ride in, you hear? Call on up and I'll get you here dry if the sky's pissin' on us." It always was, and after what Dutch had seen? Roy needed whatever bits of help staying dry that he could get.

Roy nodded, giving a light smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He certainly didn't have a phone, and couldn't afford a pay phone either. Plus he didn't know Dutch's number, and even if he did, the numbers wouldn't really mean anything to him. Sure, he could look at a phone's dial and a printed series of them and dial them in right, but yeah. It was all kind of a thing that wasn't quite available to him. "Thanks again, sir." he said, getting into the car. He did appreciate the thought, though. Not everyone would even offer.

Neither of them was 'everyone', though. That was the thing about this city, in Dutch's experience. The privileged and powerful? They were a dime a dozen, nearly interchangeable with each other. But the unwashed masses like Roy and himself? The struggles any of them went through... they were what defined them. "No worries, gotta make sure my crew's safe and dry," he said as he climbed in and slammed the door shut, smiling to himself. Tomorrow was another day, after all. With Roy around? The daily work load could be that much more tolerable knowing he had someone dependable.