something you share

Who: Dutch and Evelyn
Where: Occam Automotive
When: Late Afternoon/Early Evening

Holding onto her hat with her right hand, Evelyn angled her head up at the garage, the cab behind her pulling away. She was pretty sure this was the place -- there had only been one 'Occam Automotive' in the phonebook after all. She shifted the bag cradled in her left arm, still apprehensive as to whether it was the right gift to express 'Thank you for saving my life'. She didn't think it was, but it was the best she could come up with.

Stepping into place, she took a moment to survey the cars -- and even leaned a bit to investigate an open hood near her. When she had told Zhen she had once fancied being an engineer, it hadn't been some pipe dream. She wasn't great at fiddling with something blind, but she did pretty damn well given a diagram or seeing something worked on first. ...and it was never long before she was thinking of ways to improve a design. Unfortunately, she had never been around a car long enough to physically work one out... but she had seen enough designs and manuals to recall the parts' names and uses. And that display of memory brought forth a little quirk of a smile...

...which disappeared when she noticed somebody there none-to-politely staring at her. At a pointed clearing of the throat his eyes flicked up to her face where, in Evelyn's opinion, they should've been all long. She shifted the bag in her arm again and fixed the guy with a steady stare, "I'm looking for Dutch--" there was definite surprise on the guy's face there "--is he here?"

Back in the corner office, Dutch was indeed there. Just like every day, not that he ever took much joy from the fact. And it wasn't that he disliked his job or shop, either. Really, working in the guts of a car was as close to contentment as Dutch ever got; that or being pass-out drunk. Not that he was doing either of those at the moment: no, it was order time again. The day was winding down, half of the boys on his crew had been sent home already, no new jobs were coming in. That meant it was nearly over, and the Round was in his near future. "Yeah, just dig around the scrapyard," he was rumbling into the phone, "See what you can find for me. New'll do too, might as well try to refurb it though."

Dutch hung the phone back onto the cradle as a knock resounded through the office door, his crewman Steve peering in. "Hey boss, some skirt's here to see you," he told Dutch with an unsubtle grin, nodding back the way he'd come. "Yeah?" Dutch asked in vague surprise, "She got a name?"

Steve just laughed slightly, shrugging and stepping back from the door as Dutch rose. "If she does, I think she's savin' it for you," he taunted, earning a shove from Dutch as he moved out of the office. "Can the shit, Stevie, an' just--" he started in reprimand, faltering when he saw Evelyn across the shop's bay. Surprise was plain on his face as Dutch tugged off his cap, smoothing his hair back and wiping at imagined grease he was sure was on his face. "Just punch out for the day, get on home now," Dutch said as he rallied, moving past his employee towards Evelyn. "Miss Amelia?" he called in greeting, smiling uncertainly, "Thought we'd been over this before; not the best neighborhood for you to hang 'round."

"I took a cab this time -- no wondering around the streets for me," Evelyn gave a small wry smile, even though the memory wasn't one she could honestly smile about. "And it was either stopping by here or..." she gave a little shrug instead of finishing that sentence. The only other option was stopping by his place, and considering that was directly across the street from where she had gotten attacked, it wasn't something she was up for. Ever. But, recalling that wasn't particularly pleasant, so Evelyn changed the subject with a smile, "How are you?"

"Livin' and breathin', same as yesterday," Dutch answered, glancing at a couple of the cars in the shop as he crossed the space between them, stopping long enough to shut the hood of the car Steve had been working on. Without a few drinks in him, the smiles came harder, the awkwardness at basic social dealings was much more pronounced. Really, all that kept Dutch's usual gruffness in line was the knowledge of what Evelyn had been through in recent days. That and the fact that she seemed a genuinely nice girl. "Looks like you're on the mend," he observed with a nod, "Good to see, gotta say I'm glad for it. You doin' okay?"

"Yeah," Evelyn murmured. She held up her bandaged wrist for a brief moment, "Wrist's still a bit shot though -- so no waitressing for a bit -- but it's all mending." She was still taking painkillers, and between her outfit and hair covering everything she looked pretty normal. But she was feeling better today, physically and psychologically, enough so to brave the trip back to this area of town. She noticed that he certainly seemed less... well, she wasn't sure if 'less friendly' was the right way to put it -- he still seemed oddly approachable to her... but that probably had a good bit to do with the 'saving her life' thing. Cheery. That was it. He seemed less cheery.

"But," Evelyn took a couple more steps towards him, the smile breaking into something still small but more genuine, "I have something for you." She nodded her head towards the bag, and the expression on her face was practically grinning despite the small close-lipped smile not getting any wider.

Few things put Dutch Giacomo off balance; he'd seen and done terrible things, he'd resigned himself to a bitter life, not much shocked him any more. Seeing his daughter certainly had, and now? He could add receiving a gift to that short list. "What, uh, what's this?" Dutch asked, taking the bag with plain surprise showing on his face. Aside from a bottle of whiskey from his crew at Christmas, this didn't happen. Ever.

He opened it carefully, glancing between it and Evelyn in muted shock. The neck of a bottle caught his eye first, and Dutch laughed softly as he slid it free, turning it to examine the label. "A Salento?" he asked needlessly, smiling more warmly as he studied the wine, "Hell, Amelia, this must've set you back more'n a few bucks."

Of course, the weight of the bag still hinted at other contents, and once he'd carefully set the wine aside, Dutch reached back in. His hands closed on thick fabric, slightly rough but heavy, like... Like my shirt? Like his shirt but nicer, in fact; it had been made in this decade, it didn't have a single patch on it, and the darker colors were far more pleasing. "You didn't haveta... I mean..." Dutch murmured, stumbling over his own words, "S'far too kind of ya."

And that's when the grin broke out, "Well, I wanted to then." And it was true! Even though she still felt that not doing something just wasn't an option. Evelyn grew up being taught that you do something nice for those who do nice for you; though she felt that she didn't heed that as often as she should. But Dutch had saved her life, and that was Big. It was something even she couldn't brush off. But, really, this kind of gratitude she didn't want to brush off. Of course, coming out and saying 'you saved my life' highlighted a severity of the situation that Evelyn still preferred not to think about. "And don't worry about the cost... with my job I've managed some connections." Sometimes keeping secrets paid off! Like not mentioning the sommelier's wine-cellar rendez vous with one of the coat check girls... people appreciated stuff like that.

Dutch had once warned Evelyn of connections made in the Drake, though hers were nothing like the sort he worried over. "This'll make for a special night," Dutch mused as he reclaimed the wine, "'Course, a bottle this fine? Sort of thing that's best when shared." Which meant it was going to be a long time before Dutch cracked it open, so long as he could keep his poorer drinks in good supply.

"I, ah," Dutch stammered, realizing he'd been staring at the bottle instead of the bearer, "I'm not exactly in this spot too often, forgettin' my manners. You want a tea or anything?" He nodded back into the shop, where a wall of tools ran seamlessly into a small table that held a two-coil burner and a box of donuts.

"Alright," she nodded. She hadn't planned for anything beyond dropping off the gift -- neither for staying or leaving right away. But she opted to stay, because her good mood was resurfacing after seeing that her gifts were a hit. She had been apprehensive there, thinking she had done a good job but still anxious nonetheless; because the only things she had to go by were that he was a widower, ordered Caleo Salento when she first met him, and she knew he was down one shirt that was in her possession. "Tea sounds just fine."

He nodded for Evelyn to follow, though Dutch didn't start moving for a minute or so, instead lingering over both gifts he'd been given and eventually tucking them back into the bag. He hated being thrown so easily, not being able to hide how stunned a simple gesture could leave him, but his poker face only worked on his own misery. "So if your wrist's still on the mend, they givin' you a little time down at the Drake?" Dutch asked as he led her to the table, feeling the kettle on one of the burners. Still warm, good. Less time she's stuck lookin' at this mug, Dutch thought, grabbing a mug and a tin that held tea bags.

There was a brief pause before Evelyn answered, filling it with taking in the tools and such around the shop. She remembered Dutch's telling her shouldn't stick around the Drake, and she couldn't imagine he'd be too thrilled that her taking the concierge position. Initially she thought about lying; hell, her first instinct was to come up with some story that was a half-truth, at best. And that bothered her. "Well, I'm not waitressing..." Evelyn started, keeping her eyes on the kettle instead of facing him. She was opting for the truth, but she didn't know if it was because she really wanted to tell it or because she figured the lie'd be discovered pretty quick... Dutch did visit the Drake, after all.

"There weren't any positions in the restaurant for the... 'temporarily disabled'," she gave a little wry grin there before getting to the point, "but a concierge position was open." It certainly was a promotion, to go from balancing drink-laden trays to hotel concierge. Hell, the staff seemed certain she'd slept with Sullivan once they'd heard. ...That hadn't made things easier. "I actually just got off my first day," she finished, finally daring to look him in the face.

This was easier ground for Dutch, the act of watching someone and looking away whenever they looked his way. His eyes dipped down to the mug as Evelyn looked his way, focusingon the light curls of steam that spread up. "Congrats on that," he said, genuinely meaning it for her sake even if it worried him. Plenty of the Drake's staff avoided trouble, why was he so convinced that she'd find it? "I'd have to be one sour old bastard to harp on your job right after you get a promotion," Dutch said, looking Evelyn's way again as he offered her the mug of tea, "So... let's skip that lecture today, hm? The pay's solid, I'm guessing."

"Pays more than a good week of waitressing," Evelyn murmured into the mug, grateful she didn't need to a force a smile when she was blowing lightly across the hot surface. "But I think people were friendlier when I came bearing steak or an overpriced ale... Now they demand to know why a 'decent opera' isn't in town tonight and what on earth they're expected to do for entertainment," she tilted the mug to her lips, her face expressing bemusement at that now; even though she had been anything but when the huffy matron harassed the staff that morning.

She got a low rumble of laughter out of Dutch with the observation, he'd definitely encountered that type of person plenty in his younger days. Sometimes he even got them in the shop, threatening hell itself if there was any damage to their cars. "Piece of advice for ya, then," he suggested, "Any time you suggest something? A show, a place for dinner, shoppin' whatever? If they look unimpressed, say somethin' like 'Mrs. Walker just told me how wonderful it was'. None a'those uppercrusts will naysay it if there's a Walker backin' it." Even if he wasn't a tea drinker? Dutch needed something to occupy his hands, and a cup of gin wouldn't look good at all. "It's all about image with that crowd, Amelia. Poise, confidence, bein' damn certain you know what's best because you say it is."

A slow grin dawned on her face. "'Mrs. Walker just told me'... Now that is a good idea. Well, good thing I can put up an image," she added, the half-joking tone nearly hiding the words' truth. She took another thoughtful sip from the mug and then, clearing her throat, challenged, "But what if I'm speaking to her illustrious Mrs. Maya Walker herself?" There was a the slightest touch of sarcasm there -- the major higher-ups were often regarded in such a tone by the staff... behind the scenes, of course. "I don't think 'Mrs. Walker recommended it to me' works very well when she's standing before you." Not that Evelyn had ever had to deal with Mrs. Walker -- at the restaurant she'd catered to many bigwigs, even the Don a few times, but not Mrs. Walker.

"If it's Maya Walker herself?" Stab the bitch with a pen for me. "Swap 'Hagel' in for a last name, 'course that'll be on a day when she feels like speakin' to common folk." Dangerous ground, he knew; he couldn't gripe too much without showing that there was a reason why he'd want to. "Chief doc up at Eidolon General's a Hagel," Dutch explained with a shrug, "So his old lady's gotta be loaded." He worried, whether he felt like it was reasonable or not. She was a frontline target now; one of the first faces people might associate with the Drake, who knew what would happen?

"I'll keep that in mind," she murmured, flicking her gaze down to her mug as she scrutinized him out of the corner of her eye. He... seemed to kinda know a bit about Mrs. Walker and the Hagels. It wasn't in what he said so much in how he said it. There was ust a certain tone that suggested some type of familiarity with the subject. She took another sip, seriously wondering how a Giacomo winded up here. And Evelyn felt herself torn between curiosity and her general tendency to not pry, not with people she'd only recently met. But she had a higher comfort level with, or at least a significant interest in, Dutch than she usually did with people she more or less just met -- again the whole 'saving her life' thing. But Evelyn was aware enough to figure the story behind that probably wasn't the easiest -- it wasn't just the elements that could make a man seem so worn. So she tabled the question... for now.

Dutch had an awkward moment there, but he'd never been an expert at smalltalk of any sort. Not even when he liked someone, when they were worth his time. Evelyn was, which made the failure in his head all the more frustrating. "So, uh..." Dutch murmured, looking Evelyn's way, "If this new job's working well? Maybe I can get you a line on a cheap car once you've got some change rounded up. It'll save on bus an' cab fare eventually." Stupid, Giacomo. Just let her go, take the goodbye gift. He sighed in consternation over his social failings, shaking his head. "Sorry, I guess. Don't have a whole lot of chances to practice this sort of thing? I'm not tryin' to sell you somethin'."

Oh, she caught the social awkwardness there; and she just as easily caught his frustration about it. She shook her head lightly, dismissing his unneeded apology, "It's alright," she answered, holding the mug just below her mouth. It was true -- she didn't mind. But, getting that there was some awkward hold-up with self-image or seomthing there, she gave him the most reassuring of her smiles. Sure, chatting with a guy like Dutch in a currently closed garage was never how Evelyn usually spent her time; but Dutch had more than proven himself to be worth visiting in her eyes. So she definitely didn't mind -- she had wanted to come here. "Whether your selling something or not, I couldn't turn down such a good offer regardless," she added good-humoredly, figuring light wry humor was the best cure for most conversational awkwardness.

And again, things Dutch wasn't used to. In this case? Reassurances. Zhen and Cheyenne had been the last people to give him any, and they'd been meant more for smaller problems and doubts. Here, though, everything Evelyn had told him to date clashed with his own idea that she was just obligated to show some kindness or gratitude. "Well then, you set a price Amelia," Dutch eventually told her, smiling more confidently, "As high or low as you like, whether you've got the money or not. When you do? I'll have a car ready for you."

It was odd, despite her comment earlier it hadn't really hit her that she might get a car. And when it started to, there was a moment of surprised speechlessness. Laughing lightly a bit at her own awkward silence, Evelyn finally spoke up, "I... have no idea, at the moment." She had a bank account that could afford any-priced car, sure, but she was still stubbornly holding on to making it on her own means. "Y'know," she added thoughtfully, "I could probably tell you what most of the parts do on a car, but I couldn't really guess a price." She had looked at the diagrams, not the prices. With her financial background, you didn't look at prices on things like that. "And I don't want to give you a price that'd rob you... because I suspect you might take me up on it regardless," she added accusingly if lightly.

He looked surprised there, at the bit where Evelyn said she knew what the parts were and how they worked. "You know the innards?" Dutch asked in amusement, "Well hell, if the Drake doesn't pan out, come on by here. Think I could put in a good word for you, get you a job with the boys." Chuckling into his mug, Dutch had to eye her wryly as he took a sip of tea and managed to contain his expression over the watery flavor. "And I don't let myself get robbed, neither," he assured Evelyn, "I'd just slash the labor costs down. But no pressure, you just let me know if you're looking." Once she was? Dutch would make sure she didn't get gouged by the dealers in town or the other garages. Robbers came in plenty of different shapes, after all, and Dutch didn't like any of them.

"I'll do that," she promised. "And, if the Drake falls through... we'll see." She had given up on her dreams of going to school to study engineering a while ago -- she couldn't move forward if she was still clinging to the past, after all. So she regulated that desire to the occasional model building and moved the problem-solving into other, non-technological directions. And the biggest mess she had ever really dealt with had been a lot of glue and popsicle sticks. But despite the grease and all that something still stirred a bit at the thought of getting hands-on knowledge of a car, but Evelyn kept it down. She didn't see going down that road again resulting in anything other than more disappointment.

"Even if you just get the urge to monkey around, you know how to find the place," he offered with a nod of encouragement. Despite how they'd met, Evelyn struck him as a bright woman. She'd be okay at the Drake, right? Smart enough to bail out if she was being drawn towards real problems or danger? Dutch hoped so, he didn't think he had much right to feeling so protective. "'Til then, I'm not keepin' you, am I? My boys normally just walk away when they're done talkin' to me, I think someone with some manners'd find it a damn sight tougher to get clear."

She didn't have anywhere to be, other than wanting to be safe at home before nightfall -- it was a new worry she had picked up. But Evelyn wondered if she was keeping him from something. She had been the one to drop by unexpected, after all. She gave a slight shake of the head, "I'm fine, as long I'm not distracting you...?" He may not have had a family, but he might've had work to do, or friends waiting on him, or just general errands.

Then again, it was very possible it was related to the whole self-image thing she had picked up on: between the worn demeanor, and the social awkwardness, and the fact that his humor was usually self-deprecating... it was impossible for someone observant not to notice. She just couldn't really guess the why there -- maybe he was always like that, or maybe it was circumstances. Losing a family in a fire couldn't be easy, and she recalled his expression at the Drake when one of the Family guys appeared. There were some clues, but in the end she couldn't really guess. "Although, I do have some homework ahead of me now... figuring out what price to give you for that car." She gave a little grin there, "I guess I could get to that."

It was his fault, he was driving her off and Dutch knew it. But it was a kneejerk reaction, some reflex that made him try to deny people knowing him, or even seeing him regularly. Shit rained down on Dutch Giacomo, and he didn't like when it splattered onto other people. But at the same time? He was lonely, sick and tired of being sick and tired. Maybe... maybe if he could accept that his daughter was gone, he could give up enough misery to make room for people in his life.

Of course, Dutch would never accept that Cheyenne was gone. But he still wanted something more to his life than work and a drunken stupor every day. A friend would be a good starting point. "I, ah..." Dutch began, acutely nervous now that he'd decided to just try. "Feel free to grab a wrench and brain me?" he disclaimed, "But a good Salento, like I said it's something you share. So... maybe some night when the Drake doesn't have a claim on you, you think you'd want to? Just... dinner and a drink?"

"Oh." The offer had taken her by a surprise evident in her expression. If he had asked her last week, it would have been an offer Evelyn would have firmly -- if politely -- refused. But right now, though she was hesitant, she thought it over. Really? She liked talking to Dutch, and she was leaning towards accepting the offer... the only hiccup, although it was an awkwardly important one, was that she wasn't certain if he was asking her out or just asking her to come over for dinner.

"Sure," Evelyn finally answered, smiling again to make up for her pause, "I could do a drink with a friend." It normally took more time for her to label somebody 'friend', but Dutch's circumstances were different. ...and, for the moment, it stilled any romantic expectations.

Her wording was actually a relief, taking the burden off of Dutch's shoulders as far as clarifying what his intent was. He didn't expect a woman so young to have any sort of attraction towards him, after all. She was young enough to be his daughter. And sure, maybe his old talk with Zhen about finding someone echoed faintly to Dutch for a moment, but it wasn't relevant here. Evelyn had her whole life ahead of her, right? "It'd be a treat if you did," Dutch assured her, nodding affirmatively, "Pick a night that works for you, it'll work for me. My nights are pretty free an' clear once this place is locked down."

"Friday then," she answered, putting down her empty mug. Friday gave her enough time to price a car; and wth the job still new and filled so suddenly, her schedule was light for the next couple days.

He felt the grimness lift a bit, using the space to smile slightly and nod in agreement. Friday meant he wouldn't end up stagger-drunk hours before the Round actually closed, which didn't sound like a bad thing at all. "Call on down here," Dutch said, "Just give me an hour's notice to dust off the Sicilian in me, I'll take care of the rest." Evelyn seemed like she was on the verge of leaving, and Dutch had to figure she had good timing. What had likely started as just a good intention had landed her in a dinner plan, so while Dutch was grateful? He wasn't going to push his luck.

"I'll do that," she gave him a small grin at that as she readjusted her scarf and hat to prepare for the cold weather. "I'll give you the call after work?" she asked, one hand still on the beret, "The number in the phonebook's right?"

"Bet your ass," Dutch rumbled good-naturedly, "And, uh... pardon my language. I'll be waiting to hear from you, Amelia. You take care up at the Drake, too. Remember, Mrs. Walker told you how great whatever was. 'Less it's one of her kin." He chuckled quietly, taking Evelyn's cup with his to rinse clean once she'd left. "Stay warm, too... lord knows it gets cold out there."

"So I've noticed," she commented good-naturedly, bringing the hand on her hat down as the she shoved the other into her pocket. "Well I'll see you Friday then," Evelyn smiled there, adjusting the strap on her purse before taking a couple steps in the direction of the exit, not turning around yet. "Bye Dutch," she used her free hand for a brief wave -- a handshake now seemed oddly formal -- before turning on her heel and making her way to the exit to hail a cab. Hell, she certainly wasn't going to take the bus, not in this part of town.