What We in the 'Biz Call, "A Fixer-Upper"

Cornucopia

"So...we're pretty damn good," Jeremy said as he swirled a finger over his drink. Ryan stared at the television across the bar, but Jeremy knew he was listening. "Five core members, rotating eight. Oh, I don't know if I told you, but I got Trevor to come run gear on the next heist. He's actually pretty good when the Boys aren't trying to set something on fire."

Ryan didn't say anything, his arms folded on the bar with his chin on top. Beside him, his Diet Coke had gone flat as he watched the screen shift in green.

"So yeah. We're set," Jeremy concluded. "Reached the top. Ready to face the Suns head on."

The pitcher hesitated, ball in hand, to the boos of the stadium unheard in the shuffle of the bar.

"...You think we need one more, don't you."

The ball went sailing, reflected in a pair of blue eyes just visible beneath the mask.

"...Okay. We'll get one more."

Geoff Ramsey turned out to be...enthusiastic.

They had "acquired" him with the help of Jack, who'd tracked him down near instantaneously, as though he'd just been waiting for the call. He wasn't at all what Jeremy had expected: old corduroy jacket, messy black hair thinning at the top. He had tattoos all the way from his fingertips to his shoulder blades, and when he'd shook Jeremy's hand, the strength of it made his whole arm shake. In short, he looked, frankly, like a punk.

"You got some uncouth taste in music dude," he said when he first made his way into the AH household.

Jeremy turned from his workbench to see Geoff bent over his CD collection, casually perusing each with a casual click, click, click.

"I need inspiration," Jeremy told him. He was used to Ryan's musical snobbery, so all he offered was a little shrug. "Also, uncouth?"

"Perfectly cromulent word," Geoff said, setting Better Dayz back in its slot. He raised an eyebrow. "You rap?"

On that, Jeremy did fidget a little. "Used to. Haven't touched it in a few years."

"You got any tapes?" Geoff asked, and his voice was so genuine Jeremy was taken aback.

"I uh...yeah. If you want." He twiddled his screwdriver in his hand. "Are you sure? It doesn't really seem like your kinda stuff."

Geoff smiled. "What, because I dress like this?" He indicated to himself vaguely . "Why don't you try me."

Jeremy gave him a wary smile. Hesitant as he was about taking recommendations second-hand, Geoff was exactly what the FAHC needed. He threw himself into his work, doing more for the crew in his short month on the team than Jeremy and Ryan had managed in his first three. His easy mannerisms endeared him to nearly everyone, and the feeling was mutual. He'd taken to Gavin instantly, which was shocking because Jeremy was under the impression that Gavin was un-take-able. Even Michael had spent months saying Gavin was the literal worst before that became a lie.

On the other side of the living room floor, Lindsay was struggling to amend their latest heist plan with her best idea yet.

"So there's this port potty, and then I get the crane-"

"And then you shit your pants?" Michael cut in.

"Michael I swear I'm gunna kill you."

Jeremy cast his eyes further past them to where Ryan and Jack were having a much more levelheaded conversation.

"-And it should be fine as long as she doesn't Weems it up," Ryan finished thoughtfully.

"I heard that!" came a voice from the kitchen, and Jack snickered.