Engine Parts Shop, the Rose
To prove the point, Nestor set off down the rows and bade Charlie follow along after. Niccolette, he noted, stayed behind. Which was all well and good; he didn't really think he needed her help. He could have gone by himself, had he known where he was going. Besides, Charlie was very interested in where that tattoo really ended, and he didn't think he needed to have that conversation in front of her. Even Charlie Ewing had standards--at least, he was pretty sure he did. What those standards were seemed to be up for negotiation.
There was a heavy thunk as Nestor handed him the first part. Charlie took hold of it with one hand and tucked it under his arm. He grinned as he kept following along. He knew that one now, even if a lot of that night was sort of a vague blur. The important bits were retained, he thought. Like the meaning of the compliment. Not that there was much mystery in it, the way Nestor said it. But Charlie liked knowing the exact shape of compliments. Sometimes it proved useful. There was a difference, for instance, in complimenting his face or other parts of him; a difference in telling him he was pretty or other, less polite adjectives. Set the tone for the whole thing.
"I don't think so," he answered, more cheerful than he'd felt since starting work on the engine. His eyes scanned the shelves, or what he could see of them in the light of the lantern Nestor carried, gleaming indistinctly. "I would remember a tattoo like that. It's very distinctive." Charlie was rewarded with a laugh for drawing out the last word.
"Oes? Mujo ma, jent. Ent as you can see th' full effect of it under all circumstances, ye ch--ah, hand me that--ne, th' other--oes, that one." Charlie feigned a critical eye, looking at the lines that disappeared down one hip, nodding solemnly. He was a great appreciator of craft, you see. Of all kinds.
They went back and forth like that as they went down Charlie's list. An easy kind of banter Charlie could slide right into, at any hour and with anyone sufficiently interested. Much easier than trying to draw blood from the conversational stone that was Niccolette Ibutatu, at least, and Charlie felt his spirits rather bolstered by the exchange.
At last though the final part was loaded into his waiting arms, and Charlie knew he couldn't linger. He didn't even really want to, though he did manage to mention both that it was his birthday, and where he would be spending it. The more the merrier, that was Charlie's philosophy. Lately. All of it was heavier than he had expected, so maybe he was glad to have a second pair of hands after all. He wandered back over to where Niccolette stood, eyes closed.
"This is all of it then," he declared overly loudly as they walked back towards Niccolette. If she had somehow fallen asleep standing up, Charlie would... Well he'd have to wake her up somehow, and wasn't particularly looking forward to the prospect.
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