Owner	Pose
Mercy Thompson	The shop has closed up for the day, and the bay doors -- except for one -- are closed. The last customer had come to pick up their car not that long ago, leaving Mercy by her lonesome. She's grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and she makes her way out of the shop, her nose wrinkling slightly. She pauses just outside to look back towards the garage, and then she makes a face. Xiang Zhao hadn't been wrong -- it's time for it to be deep cleaned. She exhales a breath, and then steps out into the still evening, lifting the bottle of water to unscrew the cap and take a drink of it. The sun hasn't set yet, but it has started to head in that direction. Her pigtails are frayed from the day of work she's put in. She wears a light green t-shirt, and a pair of jean shorts as well as her tan coloured steel toed boots. She's shed her coveralls, and they're hanging up inside the shop. There's a smudge of dirt and grease across her left cheek, and a couple of similar smudges on each of her arms. It's been a long day, and she could use a shower. And dinner.
Giles	Outside is Giles' car, and he leans against the hood of it. Waiting for her when she emerges from the shop, his hands tucked into the pockets of the jeans he currently wears. Days at the garage are a lot like days working spells. Often exacting, smelly, and sometimes outright gross. His lips twitch up as he sees the woman, and the smudges on her cheek and arms. With the breeze blowing the wrong direction, any scents of him, his car, or what might be sitting in the back seat, are quite carried away from any sensative noses. "Mercy," he greets.
Mercy Thompson	It's been a hot day, and though she's a bit sweaty in addition to slightly grungy, she hasn't quite reached the gross phase yet. Maybe. She lifts her free hand, about to brush some stray wisps of hair from her forehead when she happens to actually catch sight of how dirty her hand is, at the moment. She wrinkles her nose at it, and then she reaches around to the back pocket of her shorts to snag a rag dangling from it. She should just take the time to wash up, but she'd been thirsty and the last customer had wanted to talk to her about everything on his way out. With the breeze being as unhelpful as it pleases, she doesn't realize that Giles -- or his car -- happen to be there until he greets her. She hadn't expected there to be anyone there, and she mildly startles, her feet scuffing a bit on the gravel just outside the shop as her weight shifts. The moment she realizes it's him, she smiles brightly, her brown eyes lighting up as she steps lightly towards him. "Rupert," she greets him in a warm tone. "I wasn't expecting anyone, you surprised me," she adds, not quite sheepishly.
Giles	Giles hadn't meant to startle her. Honestly he hadn't. "My apologies," he says as a result. "Hungry? I brought dinner." He straightens from his lean against the car's hood, and steps to the back seat. He lifts several hard bottomed cloth bags from there, and turns to display them. Just then, the breeze shifts, carrying the scents of pizza to sensative noses.
Mercy Thompson	One of her eyebrows quirks up, and then she gives a shake of her head at his apology. "It's all right, really," Mercy says, quirking a smile at him. "It's not your fault, I should have been paying more attention," she adds in a light tone. His question causes her attention to perk, and if she were coyote then her ears would have done likewise. Instead, it's a shift of her weight and a slight tilt of her head that happens. "I'm starving, lunch was hours ago, and it's been a steady day," she answers. Then the breeze shifts, and the aroma of pizza finds her nose. And the smell of him, too. "Yes, please," she says, giving a nod, her tongue damping her lips. Pizza beats rabbit, and it's a lot easier to catch! A grin teases around the corners of her lips. "You, and your pizza, are going to come upstairs with me," she says, a sparkle showing in her brown eyes. "And then I'm going to shower so that when I hug and kiss you then I won't be sharing my assorted car grunge onto you," Mercy says, giving a small nod. She does intend to do both of those things! "Thank you, Rupert," she adds in a warm tone.
Giles	Giles would probably rather not know about rabbit being a meal, all told. Or, at least, the way Mercy is likely intending to have it. Cooked rabbit he can tollerate, at least. "Yes ma'am," he agrees about him and his pizza going upstairs with her. and he smiles and nods, and walks toward her, bags still held in hand, obedient and agreeable. "Sounds good to me. You're very welcome, Mercy." He probably will appreciate assorted car grunge not getting onto him, but he doesn't actually say so.
Mercy Thompson	There aren't that many people that Mercy chooses to talk to about her escapades when she's a coyote. Overall, she hasn't told Giles a lot about them, but she's at least shared with him that they happen. Raw meat isn't a terrible thing when she's in coyote form, but she spares him the details of it. "Can I help carry anything?" she offers, her head tilting a touch to one side. If there isn't anything for her to help carry, then she'll head through the shop and towards the door that goes upstairs to her living space, unlocking it and opening it for him. "Oh, I picked up a bottle of the Glenlivet that you like, so you'd have it here if you fancied some of it," she adds, smiling warmly at him.
Giles	Giles might be better off /not/ knowing a great deal about those escapades. Not for his own sake, so much, as to prevent him worrying about her when she hares off on the next one! And since she's offered to help carry, Giles obliges. And it's not subtle. He simply holds out one of the bags to her. After, he follows her on through the garage and up the stairs. At the top, he pauses while she unlocks the door, then steps enters. "Ah, thank you. I might take you up on that some time." Maybe not right now, it's a bit early for it yet.
Mercy Thompson	There have been times when she's been in trouble, as a coyote, and she has the buckshot scars to prove it. She easily accepted the bag he offered for her to carry, then led the way up to her apartment above the shop. After unlocking the door and stepping in, she held it open for him to enter. The air conditioner was running, trying to keep ahead of the heat. "You're welcome, Rupert," she says warmly, glancing to him. "Feel free to make youself comfortable," she offers. It's a motley assortment of second hand furniture though still functional and good enough. "There's other drinks in the fridge, help yourself. I'll grab a shower and a change of clothes and be only a few minutes," she promises. She removes her steel toed boots then carries the bag to the kitchen before heading for her bedroom to grab a change of clothes. With them in hand, she steps lightly towards the bathroom, mostly closing the door behind her.
Giles	"You have the drinks," he says, after the fact, referring to the bag he'd given her. Of the three bags, it's the heaviest. Within are a couple of large bottles of cold soda. "I wasn't sure what you had on hand, so I came prepared." Of course Giles brought drinks. Soda goes well with pizza. One is coke, the other is sprite. While she heads for the bathroom, he busies himself getting the plates and drinks ready. The two big bottles get deposited in the fridge. The pizza itself taken out of its back and placed on the counter. Out of the third comes breadsticks, with sauce, plates, and plastic eating utensils. He hadn't been sure how ravenous she might be.
Mercy Thompson	The woman-coyote hadn't even looked into the bag she was carrying to see what was in it. She hadn't minded the weight of it at all. "I usually have water and milk and some kind of juice. Sometimes soda, too," she comments. It depends on her earnings, some days. True to her word, the shower only runs for a bit more than five minutes before it's turned off. Mercy towels herself off, gets dressed in a clean pair of jean shorts and a clean light grey t-shirt, then pulls a comb through her dark hair. As she tussles it with her fingers, she steps out of the bathroom and to the table where he's set out the food. "It smells wonderful," she says, stepping up behind him to slip her arms around him if he lets her. He'd have noticed in putting the drinks away that there isn't a lot in her fridge.
Giles	Giles had, indeed, noticed that there wasn't a lot in her fridge. He may have made a mental vow to make sure to stock her fridge every now and again for her, under the pretext of bringing food over to make dinner. He smiles over his shoulder at her as she hugs him from behind. "Welcome back," he says. "Hungry? Dinner's ready." It was relatively easy! He'd even gotten cups out before she came out of the bathroom. And had sat the sprite on the counter just after she entered the kitchen.
Mercy Thompson	Whether or not Mercy will have an argument to offer about the fridge getting stocked remains to be seen. There might and there might not be. "Mm, thank you, Rupert. I'm quite hungry. It was a busy day," she comments. Then she lifts a hand to gesture towards the pizza. "After you, though," she says with a smile. She falls quiet then, easing to his side and watching him. And she stays quiet as she considers something for not the first time. "There's a thing that I've been wanting to tell you. Being a walker is an inherited sort of thing. I inherited it from my father," she says softly, watching him as she shares that much. "He's Old Coyote," she adds.