Chapter Text
How many times was it now, that she’d fixed this same old car? Couldn’t very well sell it to that old man for parts. Wouldn’t last all that long anyway, before everything reset again. Time and gain were certainly strange things here, though no matter how many times the race reset, the booze always tasted just as good. The repairwoman slid out from under the chassis of the car, sitting up and wiping a mixture of motor oil and sweat from her face.
She didn’t do this very often, at first. It was only after getting into so many wrecks that she had the idea to pick up a few tricks from Murro, what, with her car always starting out so beat up. God, just what did she think she was doing before all this? She thought about that question a lot, not much else to do but race, fix, and think here. After a few moments slipped away, she decided it didn’t really matter, and took another swig from the half empty bottle hooked between her fingers.
“Hey, Demi!”
The shout drew her attention, and the woman approaching made her smile.
“Hey, Fiona.” She spoke nonchalantly, leaning against her car. The girl was wheeling her motorbike over, and Demi could spot a few new dents in the fairing. That was a bit odd, but she wouldn’t be very surprised if a few things rolled over into the next run. This place was an enigma, after all. That wasn’t the reason Fiona came to her, though, her eyes drifting over to the gas tank.
“She’s out of gas, mind doing me a favor and filling her up?” Fiona asked, flipping out the kickstand and resting her bike on the pavement. She took her helmet from the handles and tucked it snugly underneath her bare arm, her jacket long since having been retired to her waist.
Demi laughed lightly, peeling herself off the roller seat and walking a few feet away to pick up a red container, leaving her bottle in one of her car’s drink holders.
“Of course, you know stock never runs dry~” She popped open the fuel cap and lifted the container, fitting the nozzle in the tank and beginning to fill. She grabbed the spare towel she kept on her belt and swiped it across her face, in a bid to ease the heat pounding down from the sky.
“So,” she said idly, looking for any chance at conversation, “where’d the dents come from?” Demi folded the towel underneath her thumb and pointed to the fairing.
“Those are from the last run, Mike swerved into me trying to avoid the hook, and later Hound got my tire… crashed into Cavalier.” Fiona brought a hand up to rub her nose, making sure it got set back into place after the reset. She brought the helmet out from under her arm and tossed it lightly, catching it and rubbing a finger across its visor, checking for cracks. “Gotta say, that's the worst crash I’ve been a part of in a while. Can’t have been the worst one on record, though.”
Demi nodded and fiddled with the bike’s dip gauge, deeming this much gas to be enough for a while. She screwed the cap back on and pat the tank lightly, looking back at Fiona and smiling with a curt nod. The driver walked back to her bike and procured a key from her pocket, inserting it into the ignition and starting the bike, checking the gas gauge and moving to flip out a wallet.
“Don’t, it’s fine.” Demi interjected, thinking for a moment before adding, “but if you really feel the need to pay me back, a drink with a friend is always appreciated.”
Fiona giggled and shoved the small leather wallet back into her pocket, returning the helmet to the bike’s handles.
“If you insist.” she exaggerated, striding over to Demi’s car and picking out an unopened bottle from the near infinite stash in the back seat. The driver fumbled for a moment before Demi approached, taking a key from her pocket and popping the lid off. Fiona looked at her with amazement, holding the bottle to her lips.
“You have
got
to teach me how to do that.” She took a sip, licking traces of foam from her lips.
“Drink with me more, and I just might~” Demi teased, reaching over to pick up her bottle and raising it to Fiona’s, a satisfying clink as the driver obliged her. “So,” she took another swig, “why’d you call him Cavalier?”
Fiona looked puzzled for a moment, before something seemed to click.
“Did you know him from before the race?” she asked, confused. “He’s only ever introduced himself as Highway Cavalier, even on the entry roster. Not like that’s too odd since we all have racing aliases, but even then, almost all of us know each other’s actual names.”
Demi’s eyes widened for a moment, before gently biting her lip.
“I didn’t know that.” She took a long drink from the bottle, searching around for the stray droplets clinging to the glass. “I did know him,” Demi admitted, “he was a regular at my bar. I didn’t know he wasn’t telling anyone his name, though, and that’s not my place to say.”
Fiona looked frustrated for a moment, before thinking and nodding gently.
“That's fair enough.” She took another sip as Demi set her empty glass on the passenger’s seat, reaching over for another bottle and opening it with the key.
It was silent for a while after that, Demi and Fiona simply sitting in silence, throwing back a few bottles, the heat bearing down on them both. Eventually, a buzzer could be heard from the starting line, signaling the drivers to report for briefing. Demi swiped the bottles down to the floor of the car, packing her personal effects away in the trunk, so she could bring them back to her paddock.
They were both buzzed, she realized, though letting it go rather quickly. Not that it mattered. Not that any of it mattered. They’d be back here soon enough, drinking and pretending like nothing was wrong.
That’s how it always went.