Chapter Text
Roadbuster muttered under his breath as he laid under the car, looking over the mess Leadfoot and Topspin left him. It was a simple job! Just strip the good parts and toss the rest! But, noo, instead they get drunk and spend most the bloody evenin' watching a damn game!
He grumbled softly, dropping his tools on the garage floor and rolling out from under the car. He sat up and tugged the rag out of his back pocket, wiping off his forehead. He stood up and grabbed a beer bottle from the open cooler, half the ice melted.
Despite being near September and near midnight, it was still so humid. A fan spun slowly near the open garage door, trying to circulate the heavy air. Poor thing barely made a breeze.
He popped the cap and sat back in his lawn chair, staring out the garage door. He relaxed as he sipped his beer. It was a quiet little neighborhood, everyone kept to themselves. Except that nosy Ms. Jones. Sweet lady, really, made some delicious casseroles, always reminded people she was packing.
Roadbuster was pretty sure the little old lady was a cryptid. The lamp in her living room was always on, even during the day. As far as they were aware, she never slept.
A car broke the silence, too nice for this neighborhood, too clean. He could only imagine how much they'd get if they stripped that pretty thing for parts. It pulled to a stop in the middle of the road.
He frowned, staring closer at it as the driver door open. No one just stopped in the middle of the road like that. Especially in this area.
A back door was opened and some loud crying was heard. A young girl? The sound of a bag hit the road before the girl cried out in pain, being tossed on the ground.
The back door was slammed shut and he narrowed his eyes when the driver got back in the car, pulling away quickly. The girl, definitely a girl, ran after the car before falling to her knees, her sobs echoing in the quiet street.
Roadbuster tapped his fingers quickly as he stared, his grip tight on his beer bottle. He waited for long moments. Waiting for the car to turn around or something.
Eventually, the cold realization sank into him that there was no one coming for the girl. He grumbled and stood up, setting his bottle on the workbench.
He walked out to the girl, slowing when he neared her and held out his hands, palm up. Her bag was thrown carelessly, some clothes laying on the road. "Lass?"
She slowly looked up at him, hiccupping softly and wiping at her eyes.
He shifted nervously, slowly kneeling down and keeping at arms length. "You, uh, ya need a place ta sleep?" He was trying to muffle his accent a bit; he knew he was hard to understand on good days.
She nodded slightly, hugging herself tightly. "I... I don't want to be alone."
He nodded, shifting to gather her bag and clothes. "C'mon, lassie, I got a couch. We'll send ya to a proper place in the mornin'."
She sniffled, but nodded.
He softly sighed and gently looped his arm around her, picking her up and tucking her close. She clung to his shirt, oil and beer clinging to him. He carried her inside, reaching up to pull the garage door closed.
It was only for the night, he reasoned. The others would understand. They'd send her to the nearest orphanage or foster home after some proper sleep.