Owner	Pose
Mercy Thompson	It's around two in the afternoon, and it's been a sunny day with a few clouds to drift across the sky. Grey clouds have started to drift in, and the temperature has lowered a few degrees over the past hour or so. There are a trio of Volkswagen's sitting in the rough parking lot for the garage -- a green one, a red one, and a blue one. The blue one and the red one sit a bit off to the side, since the work has been completed on them and the owners have been contacted about it. The last one is waiting on a part that Mercy didn't happen to have. Mercy sits on the trunk of her blue Rabbit which is sitting outside the garage, and her feet rest on the bumper of it. She's wearing a pair of coveralls, though they're unzipped and half off, the arms wrapped around her waist and tied there, and a green t-shirt. She wears a pair of tan steel-toed boots that are scuffed and stained some, and her hair has been tucked into pigtails that have frayed out over the course of the day's work. There's an oil smudge on her left cheek, but her hands are clean, and she's chewing a bite of a sandwich that's nothing fancier than canned ham and mustard. The other half of the sandwich is sitting wrapped in plastic wrap on the trunk near to her.
Xiang Zhao	It may have cooled down some, but it's still hotter than the hottest temperatures where Xiang Zhao is from by several degrees farenheit. Of course, Xiang Zhao hasn't changed his attire despite this. Part of that is he simply doesn't have anything else. The rest of it, and the more important part, is how he was raised. What he has done to help offset the heat, at least a little bit, is to wear less layers. Thus, today, he's wearing only a single under shirt, the normal pair of pants, and an inner robe. The outer robe he usually wears is missing. As is the sword that he wears when the outer robe is there to cover it. The robe is pale. Cream with pasten swirls along the hem lines. The pants are a matching cream. The under shirt a slightly paler shade of cream. The sheer amount of heat is affecting him, no matter how much it doesn't show in his expression. Little drops of sweat glisten upon the skin of his face. His left hand rests at the small of his back, hidden beneath the sleeve of his robe. His right hand holds a folding fan, and it's open and moving with the motions of his hand, fanning a breeze toward his face with every motion of it. It helps. Enough so that he seems to be doing just fine. Xiang Zhao walks along the street beside the field near Mercy's garage, having come from a trail behind the field not too long ago. The same trail he'd found Mercy on that day months ago. Despite the sweat beaded on his skin, the Chinaman appears to be perfectly at ease as he walks, his pace unhurried and perfectly steady.
Mercy Thompson	The slight difference in the temperature from what it had been around noon to what it is now is a welcome break for Mercy. She'd been under the red car until not that long ago, clamping a new muffler into place for it. The half sandwich that she's holding only has a couple of bites taken from it, so far. A late lunch break for her. Her tongue flicks out, brushing her lips, and she takes a moment to look up towards the sky. The rain that's coming is needed, and she's already made sure that all of the windows are up for the vehicles here in her parking lot. There isn't a lot of sound that comes from Zhao's footsteps, but that hint of sound combined with a whiff of scent brought to tease her nose by a breeze has her looking in the direction of his arrival. A smile perks up the corners of her lips, and she lifts her free hand to wave in greeting. "Good afternoon, Xiang!" she calls out to him. She knows well the woods and their assorted trails, most of which were made by deer and other animals -- herself included.
Xiang Zhao	Xiang Zhao can walk without sound... when he chooses to do so. He hadn't been in this moment, so the sound of his approach was not a silent one. And he smells like he always does. Hints of sandalwood. Real sandalwood. And the food he tends to cook, which means some spice. He turns his head from the direction he'd been looking, off into the distance opposite the garage, to look to the sound of a voice at least somewhat familiar. A faint smile curls up the corners fo his mouth. "Good afternoon," Zhao replies, his voice holding the same softly spoken quality that it had held the last time the pair of them had met. He hadn't, as fate has it, been able to make it back this way since that day. "How is your arm?" He turns the rest of the way and walks to where he can see Mercy sitting.
Mercy Thompson	The scent that is him is one that pleases her nose. It's not overwhelming, nor is it made up of a chemical soup of scents. It's made up of real things. Reaching aside, she unwraps the unbitten half a sandwich in order to place the bitten half atop of it and wrap the pair together to keep bugs from crawling into them. Then she lightly hops off the trunk of her car, her feet scuffing up little puffs of dust from the ground as she stands. She brushes her hands off, then lifts her right hand to brush stray bits of her hair from her face. She smiles brightly at his question, lifting the arm he'd tended and turning it about so he can see it. "It's all better and back to normal. Samuel wasn't happy about it, but I knew he wouldn't be when it had happened. He was, at least, pleased with what you did to tend it that day," Mercy says, her smile easily returning. There had been scolding, not that she mentions it. "How've you been doing? You're looking well," she says, after taking a moment to look him over. Not lewdly or ogling or anything of the sort.
Xiang Zhao	It's rather understated and all natural, that scent that is him. Today, there's the added scent of sweat, for the beads of persperation gleaming upon the skin that can be seen isn't all there is. It can't possibly be comfortable wearing the clothing he does in the sort of temperatures this place gets. Zhao watches as she wraps what remains of her food and looks thoughtful for a moment. "You need not interrupt your meal because of me," he says. He comes to a stop at a comfortable conversational distance, still waving that fan. He inclines his head to what she says about Samuel having been pleased with his efforts to tend to her arm. "Mm." There's a short pause before Zhao speaks again. "I am pleased your arm is healed." He glances around the shop. This is the first time he's actually been where he can see inside it. But at the question directed to him, Zhao's attention returns to Mercy. "Fine. I am fine. I will be happy for cooler weather to return."
Mercy Thompson	It gets hot, and Mercy well enough knows it. The layers she wears are of a different sort -- shorts and a t-shirt under the coveralls which, when she's working, are more often properly worn and done up. She glances towards her wrapped up lunch, her stomach giving a quiet grumble. Breakfast had been hours ago. "Well... if you're sure," she says, a bit of colour rising into her cheeks. She reaches out to pick up the wrapped sandwich, then glances briefly towards the shop interior before looking to him. "Let's step inside out of the sun. It's warmer out here than I expected," she offers, giving a small nod towards the garage. There are fans inside that are running and keeping air circulating, and a couple of lawn chairs are sitting in some of the open space. "Besides, the seating is more comfortable in there than out here," she adds, quirking a bit of a grin. The seating inside has also not been sitting in the sun for hours to be as hot as the trunk of her car is. "I'm very pleased about it, too. I can't imagine trying to do this sort of work with a bum arm," Mercy comments, taking a moment to look over the cars in the lot. She'll wait for him to start heading towards the garage before she will, though. She glances towards the clouds for a moment, then turns her attention back to him. "Well, there's at least rain coming for tonight, so that might give a bit of relief. It's close enough to smell it, and we could use the rain. Cooler temperatures will likely start in about a month or so," she comments, her tone thoughtful.
Xiang Zhao	"I am sure," replies Zhao, in regards to the eating of a meal. The suggestion of going inside has him glancing toward the shop again, and then back to Mercy. "If this is the case, why did you choose to eat out here?" For himself, he makes no motions to go toward the building. As for the sort of work it is... "If it involves any lifting of heavy things, it would not be possible with a broken arm." Zhao follows her glance up to the sky, and nods thoughtfully. "Mm. Rain does help when it comes," he agrees. His dark eyes move back to Mercy. The fan does not stop. "Cooler temperatures will be a welcome relief. If I remember correct, you repair these vehicles?" He remains where he is for as long as Mercy stays. He won't turn toward the garage unless she does so first.
Mercy Thompson	The half-Native woman raises an eyebrow slightly at his question, and she wrinkles her nose briefly. "I chose it before I realized how hot it was. I thought that," she says, lifting a hand to gesture towards the approaching clouds, "would have cooled it off more. And I wasn't thinking of the sun's tendency of turning metal painted any colour into practically a griddle to fry my rump on." This is added a touch wryly. "It often involves the lifting of heavy things, usually in the form of bulky parts that are as likely to cooperate while being put in place as the old ones are as likely to not cooperate while being taken off. Which generally means they can be a pain, especially doing the work myself," she comments, giving a chuckle. She doesn't mind, though, she's strong. "I'm hoping the rain tonight will mean tomorrow's cooler than today was," she comments. When he doesn't start to head for the shop, she gives a brief bounce on her toes and then she starts to head in the direction of the garage. "Mmhmm, you remember correct. I fix them. Or do my best to fix them, anyways. The one I was sitting on is mine. The other three belong to clients. Two are fixed, one needs a part," she explains, using her free hand to gesture towards them as she speaks of them. The one she was sitting on at least looks a lot better than it did weeks ago after it had been stomped by a god. The engine is still in the process of being fixed.
Xiang Zhao	"Oh," he says, and nods slowly. "That does make sense." There's a smile barely curving up his lips, amusement dancing within his eyes. Griddle and frying rumps. So funny. With Zhao standing still, his robes don't move at all, but when she turns to head inside, they swirl about him as he turns to follow her. The few wispy strands that have escaped the half tail he's pulled his hair into stick to his forehead, something she might notice. "Ah. Heavy things do not tend to cooperate well," he says as he follows. As the cars are mentioned, specific cars, he glances toward them and then back forward. The moment he steps within the confinces of the garage, he stops. And the first real emotion that isn't amusement or a smile shows. His nose has wrinkled up at the scents within the garage. A moment later, Zhao sneezes, the fan stopping as he does so. He backs up a step and shakes his head. "This is horrible. How do you handle the smell in here?"
Mercy Thompson	"Mmhmm, every now and then I manage to do that," she comments, quirking a bit of a grin as she looks to him. She notices the amusement that shows in his eyes, and the smile that barely shows, though she doesn't mention either. "Heavy and bulky things tend to be even worse on the cooperation side of things, but I usually manage okay," she says, a thoughtful note to her voice. She does notice that a bit of his hair has stuck to his forehead, but for sake of his pride, she doesn't mention it. Once she's within the garage, she steps over to one of the lawn chairs and tucks her sandwich in the cup holder in the arm of it, and she starts to head towards the fridge at the back when his sneezes cause her to stop. And she turns towards him, her head tilting to one side as she watches him. "It could use a deep clean, again, I know... I'm sorry. It's worse in here, sometimes, depending on what I'm working on. And I usually handle it about like you. Sneeze a bit. And after being in it for a while, my nose gets used to it a bit," she comments. A bit. She has a nose that's more sensitive than his. "Other times, well... vaporub," Mercy adds, quirking a grin. It's hard to tell if she's joking or not. "If you step a little to the left and then forward then you'll be under one of the fans that brings fresh air in from outside, if that would help. Would you like a bottle of water from the fridge?" she offers. She'd been headed to get one for herself when his sneezes caused her pause.