Soft Hearts Hold Secrets

Bad Luck

Muriel, despite leaving so early from Asra's place, ended up at his shop about an hour and thirty minutes too late.

And it was all because of that damn ticket.

He wanted to pay it off as soon as he could, so Muriel begrudgingly headed towards the cities closest courthouse to pay off his ticket in cash. Muriel had it in his pocket anyways -- the latest tip Asra had left him -- so he didn't see any trouble in it.

The flaw in Muriel's plan, however, came from his lack of knowledge of government and law, and how painstakingly slow each and every process was.

By the time he had left the courthouse, he had waited in three lines, been sat in an uncomfortable chair for about thirty minutes, earned multiple wary stares, and had lost himself a hundred and twenty bucks out of his pocket. Sixty for the ticket, thirty for the parking outside of the courthouse, and another thirty for an application for a familiar permit -- the man at the desk strongly suggested he got one for Inanna. Strongly suggested meaning he would kick Muriel and Inanna out if she didn't have the proper papers, unless of course Muriel was in the process of getting them.

That left him with nothing but a measly three-fifty left over from Asra's tip. Barely enough to cover a payment -- that was if Lucio hadn't bumped up the price to six hundred again. But it was okay. Muriel assured that to himself as he drove through the wet, rained on streets of South End, they sky above still cloudy and grey. He had the money under his mattress to cover him for the next two payments, and Asra's paint job was going to make him a lot more than three hundred dollars. Not to mention the parts from that car the stranger left were going to help as-

Muriel jerked his truck to a stop when he turned the corner of his shop, his eyes shooting open wide as he scanned his parking lot. Inanna gave a yip of surprise, and Muriel's truck gave a groan somewhere down in its gears at the abrupt break, but Muriel hadn't been listening.

The car- that stranger's car... it was gone.

Nervously, Muriel eased his foot off the breaks and the truck rolled its painstaking way forwards, spluttering as Muriel parked it in his usual spot and turned the engine off with one twist of the keys. He pushed his door open quickly, eyes still on that empty spot where the Chevy had been as he made his way over to the garage door. Muriel looked down at the chained lock -- secure. Perfectly so. He still looked around his wet garage when he pulled the loud door open, eyes narrowed as they scanned each and every corner for anything missing.

Nothing but rainwater and the usual tools.

And Asra's car, of course, sanded and waiting for primer.

Muriel frowned, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck a bit nervously as he turned, scanning the road. It was still too early for the usual pedestrians or the teens that would skate by on their boards or even the younger kids who'd occasionally ride past on old, hand-me-down bicycles. It wasn't too early for the birds, however. They landed beside puddles of rainwater to look for worms and partake in the occasional splash. Muriel watched them a moment or so, letting the tension in his shoulders relax.

He had left the keys in the glove box. It was likely just... stolen. Perhaps the stranger came back and took it once Muriel rid the old Chevy of its license plates. Muriel just decided he was lucky it wasn't a clients. Lucky it wasn't Asra's. Whoever had it could use it better than he could, anyways. He was just going to take it apart for money.

Ah, money. He needed that, though.

All Muriel could do was sigh like he'd done with that damned parking ticket. Bad luck was just bad luck, he supposed. At least he could get back to work on Asra's car, and pray he'd never see that bloodied stranger again.