Duck is leaving his drainpipe with his "expensive" suit folded and tucked into his shoulderbag, and trying to decide between seeing if Arc's garage was unlocked and renting a "pay-to-slot" room for 20 bucks just to catch a shower. He's maybe a block away from the corner where he needs to make a decision when a message from the rough little human herself pops up. He smiles as he reads it.
<<Message to: Duck
<<Dunno how long this meet'll be, but doubt more than two hours. Short of a rinse, doubt I'll get much cleaner. Your water still down where you at? Frag, did ANYTHING work before I set up shop, omae? if the timing's tight, you can borrow my drek. I'l let you know when over...just no fingering the goods, aight?
<<Attached: door.exe
<<@Arc [Duckdown] You're a lifesaver. See ya there.>><<@Marjory [Huey] Hey mom, I'll be there to pick you up in an hour or two. Sorry for the delay. I love you.>>Taking a left toward the garage, he thinks to himself,
Crazy how the world works out. Guy you thought was down for the long haul punks out and some random head steps up to pick up the slack. When he arrives at her place, the code she sent works just fine and with a mental order from his comm, the door pops right open, letting him in. Closing it behind him to keep too much of the cold from getting in, the tall ork looks up at the security camera.
Just yesterday, i was all shuckin and jivin for the camera. Today, I got the door code. Later, in her shower, washing his hair for the first time in weeks, he washes himself with high octane mechanic's anti-grease soap that kinda burns his skin a bit. It kinda feels good in a strange way, too though.
I gotta make sure I take good care of this girl. She got a good heart. I wonder what Deen's upto...----------------------------------
By the time Arc arrives at the garage, the tall skinny ork is facing away from the door in his blue boxer shorts, standing in the garage with his clean and still damp hair dripping down his back. He's rocking his head back and forth to the beat of some old turkish funk concert footage trid from what looks like over a hundred years ago while ironing a pair of dark brown slacks, using Arcs workbench as an ironing board and an empty spare clip from his ingram as a makeshift iron. The bullets from the clip sit on the workbench next to him and a dark brown suit jacket hangs from an electrical wire running near him. He doesn't hear Arc when she comes in, due to how loud the music is playing.
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OOC: Song playing is http://youtu.be/OoC4qAcwtbc?t=48s]