(1943-01-12) Driving Miss Tilda
Driving Miss Tilda
Summary: Sometimes it's not easy looking after other humans.
Date: 1943-01-12
Related: None.
Players:
lucietta..clifton..

Clinton and Main, Higsi
Fri Jan 12, 1943


After crossing an old concrete bridge over Cobb's Creek, Main Street comes to an end just past an old, run down church and a fishing and hiking supply shop. The concrete road abruptly becomes gravel for a hundred feet before transitioning to a dirt road. Once it's dirt, it makes a sharp turn to the left, becoming the easter end of Clinton Trail and beginning to make its way up the side of Iron Mountain.

Cobb's Creek is deep and slow as it passes beneath Main Street, making this a popular fishing spot for local kids. During the day, there's nearly always a young one sitting with their legs dangling over the edge of the bridge holding a fishing pole and watching the water for a bite.

Weather:
It is winter. The weather is cool and fair.

===

There's been a lot of.. talk in this neck of the woods today, on this particularly clear, sunny — but COLD — winter afternoon. Storefronts and humans within the radius of the King Garage are yammering about 'It'. No no no not the evil clown from literature that is far, far ahead in the future but something that happened the evening before. The 'results' of this happening that have jaws flapping is currently being given the onceover in the reputable King Garage, over on the 'bad' side of town. It's a Buick Century: 1940 model, a big black behemoth of a car that, were one to look at it from the front (unseen beyond the garage) they would notice the crimp in the left side of the bumper that sets the vehicle's 'grin' into something…. lopsided.

Ugh, ugh.

There is a young woman stepping out of the garage, a paper in her hands, expression exasperated and color high. A scruffy man in coveralls, with an honest and oil-smudged face, follows her out into the road. "Just cosmetic damage, Miss O'Clery. The old missus really did a number on th' bumper but she's lucky she didn't cause more damage. We'll hold the car, if ya can get back to us on what Mrs. Barnes wants us to do."

Thanking the man and promising to get further details, Lillie smiles sunnily to the mechanic as he departs back into the garage, and once out of eye and earsight the Empath slumps against the wall of said garage.

"Fuck.. fuck…" (feck!) …. Lillie doesn't curse much, but today calls for it.

Clifton had had an early morning at the feed store. With the shift out of the holiday season, displays needed to be changed and new deliveries of produce and supplies had come in as well. A busy day! His leather jacket was zipped up to provide a barrier against the cold, a green knitted beanie cap on his head for warmth as well. Hands dug deep into his jacket pockets as he passes the garage…only to stop and lift a curious gaze at the familiar sound of an Irish rant. "Lillie?" Crossing to where she was against the garage, he looks from the doors of the business and over to her again. "What's wrong?"

<FS3> Lillie rolls Empath: Good Success.

The Empath looks upset.. beneath the pretty trappings of the finery that she so often chooses when seeing to 'her old dears', there is a roiling, unnerved sense of upset. What THIS means is that the sense, gluttonous for stress and fueled by it, feeds the poor thing that which is going on around her. She did not… did not.. like the pity that emanated from the mechanic when talk meandered toward Tilda's failing abilities. People pass by too, seeing her there with the bill for the dinged Century and the bodywork that will be involved to make the bumper presentable again… they know to whom that car belongs, what happened over on Willowby the night before (thank Christ it's a back road), and to whom Lucietta O'Clery offers her service.

That can't 'feel' good either. There are some… a select few in town who aren't fond of Matilda Barnes, and to see (or hear about) further evidence of her mind's descent into the fog is a… humorous thing. It's enough to make Lillie's slender fists ball up, clenching the paper tight, her mouth pressing into a tense line. "Whatever shall we do…" She whispers to herself, massaging her brow.. and this is how Clif finds her. Her head jolts up in surprise as she is spoken to, and she spies the Walker as he speaks to her.

"Oh, Clif.. it's awful.." Lillie whispers tremulously.. mercifully, she is not one to weep when this upset. She has appearances to keep up! But her eyes reveal everything.

Getting closer and seeing her full expression, Clifton's brow furrows and he closes the distance between them. "Hey…hey it'll be alright." How did he know? Because it had to be! He hated seeing his friend upset like this. The Walker takes his hands from his pockets, arms opening enough to offer the invitation of a hug. "Talk to me." What had happened? Did he need to get Clyde?

Damn the promise.. damn it for this moment. Lunch break is over and people are anywhere but in the street, for this one moment in time, and able to judge freely. With Freddie gone, breaching God knows what shores in God knows what battlefield (she cannot bear to think about it), Clifton is the closest thing that Lillie can get to that solid, brotherly presence. Always a constant. The hug is accepted, Lillie moves in for a squeeze and she is full of nervous tension. But reputation be damned (she can feel Clyde's frown) Lillie squeezes tight, willing away the tears and staying level. When she draws back to look at the New York-born werewolf, her eyes are wide and wet. "Tilda." Two syllables of pain.

Lillie holds out the paper to Clifton, and if he looks upon it he will see the typewritten details of damage done to 'a Buick model sedan' and the cost to repair the cosmetic work. It's a significant fee but if one knows Tilda, money isn't a huge object. "S-she's getting worse, Clif.. her mind… her license is going to be taken.." Lillie says fretfully, hand lifting to wipe at her eyes.

Clifton pulls her into the hug as she accepts, not even caring if anybody was watching. She was crying damnit. She needed a hug! His eyes widen as Lillie says the woman's name and he pulls back when she does. "Shit. Is she alright?" Lillie goes onto explain the situation though and shows him the paper, the Walker taking it and frowning. "Damn…I'm sorry, Lillie…" His other hand lifts to rub the back of his neck as he reads before handing the paper back to her and looking to the Empath. "Can I do anything to help?"

Mercifully, Lillie isn't a hysterical sort. Once it's proper to do so, she draws back from the hug and simply stands, looking upon her friend. To see him is to feel… well, it's good for Clifton to just be there. Poor Clif, always walking into crisis. Whether it's demon boys biting his leg, fox demons running amok, drunken rich boys plugging his Alpha's head with bullets or just.. everything in between. Lillie wipes her eyes, leaning into the deft touch of her own hand, hair pulled over a shoulder in a tidy braid. "She's fine. Perturbed, if you'll believe it. S-she.. she was off to cards, last night.. thought to drive herself. She put the damned thing into a ditch. T-thought she was in an entirely different part of town—-" She breathes deep, "A part that was re-developed years ago but her mind.. it didn't see that, she… she could have killed somebody."

Calm, calm. Accepting the paper, Lillie looks over a shoulder at the garage. "She hasn't family in town to.. to carry her. Theo lives away and he can't come here to see to her." Who is Theo? Lillie turn to look at Clif worriedly. "All she has is me.. her husband doesn't give one bloody whit.. but I.. I go by bicycle.. I-I…"

Letting Lillie vent it all out, Clifton's hands return to his pockets and he watches his friend. Once she explains it all, he looks back to the garage doors and then to the Empath again. "…I know how to drive. I could take her places?" What was he getting himself into? Driving Miss Tilda!?! Still, for not only what Lillie meant to him but what she meant to his Alpha, he'd do it. "I don't know how she'd feel about being seen with me driving her around though…"

How is that for a mental image? Clifton driving Tilda? Again, fast forward to a 1980's movie favorite re. a persnickety old lady being driven by a tireless albeit devoted chauffeur! Too bad it's 1943! Lillie follows Clifton's gaze to the garage and she wipes her eyes again… she can't help it, the tears are there but not plentiful. She turns her slight self inwards, away from the road so people can't assume that this weepy up-and-coming Higsi 'society girl' isn't being accosted by a Walker. Lillie takes a deep breath then, rallies herself. "T'would be most kind of you, Clif, but… I… cannot ask you of that. There is yet so very much that you must see to, with your kin." Said cryptically, knowingly. Her soft, knowing eyes return to Clifton as she considers. "I am Matilda's.. companion.. and damnit all that I chose shorthand over learning how to drive a bloody car, when I was back home." The Empath sighs.

A mechanic departs the garage, cigarette clamped between his teeth, pads over toward the pawn shop. He eyes Clifton for all of a few seconds as he passes.

Something occurs to Lillie then, "You… you drive, Clif?"

Clifton nods "Alright…if you're sure. The offer still stands though." Looking over to the garage as the mechanic exits, he just watches the man then head over to the pawn shop. Damn Walker reputation. His gaze goes back over to Lillie and he shrugs "Yeah. Don't have a car, but back in New York needed to use one enough."

In more 'private' quarters, Lillie would have implored in a more 'insistent' manner. No no; get your head out of the gutter! Not in //that/ way! No, but more along the lines of an emphatic clutching of the hand; a desperate meeting of gazes. Instead, Lillie clutches the bill to Tilda's effed' up Buick to her heart, the paper crinkling against the fabric of her pretty, pretty coat. "Clifton—-" She starts, pauses. Is this too much to ask? Too much to ask of a man whose loyalties lie with that provocative tie to the mountain?

"W-will you…" Lillie starts. Oh, get on with it girl! Is this too good to be true? Once upon a time Frank breached the subject.. but then Frank has so much else to deal with, with his bar falling down around him.

"I am beholden to Tilda." Lillie breathes in her old, strange manner of speaking. "Her grandson lives too far, has too much to deal with.. but I am here. Could you… show.. me how to drive. A-a car…?" A breath of a question, her gaze beguiling and nervous.

With all the stammering and hesitating, Clifton was worried at first what Lillie was going to ask him! However, as it all comes out, the Walker's eyes widen a bit in surprise and a grin spreads on his features. "Really? Yeah, Lillie of course I will." He looks back at the garage again "I'm guessing we'd use Tilda's once it's done being repaired?"

Blink.

Blink.. blink…

Lillie did not expect that. But then again, what DID she expect? Clifton to be like: 'screw you, can't even'

To Lillie, at least, it feels as if she is asking a lot.

But then Clifton has to go and grin and make the Empath's fretful assumptions look foolish.. which they are. Lillie watches his face for a few seconds before she turns to glance toward the bay of the garage, in which Tilda's poor affronted Buick is being seen to. "Would you…?" She exhales, surprised. What, with what she heard tale of from Clyde recently, Clifton would…

Sadness begins to fizzle out, replaced with hope. "I was originally going to ask Frank, but then.. everything happened…" Everything, "I want someone in whom I place my utmost trust to … to show me…" Lillie tilts her head. "Tilda's car… yes, t'would be the very same." Said easily. "She would trust no other. Not even Theo." She whispers, looking sad once more.

Clifton shakes his head again "Don't worry. It's fine. I'm glad you asked, honest." His hands come out of his pockets to rub together before reaching and tugging his beanie more snug against his head. They then return back to his pockets. "I can see if Clyde would want to if you'd prefer?" Come to think of it, he didn't know if the Alpha could drive…aside from the cart. Pancake did most of the work with that though!

"Something tells me.. that Clyde," Always spoken with affection, "Would not know much about the operation of…" Lillie indicates the garage. Look closely, one can see the taillights of Tilda's car in the bay windows. "That manner of vehicle. More often that not I've seen your cousin having to negotiate cooperation from that cranky mule.. what's it's name? Waffle?" Se asks innocuously, tilting her head just so. "No no.. Clyde has enough to deal with.." Understatement. Lillie colors, hastens to rectify: "Not to say that your day-to-day concerns are anything less, Clif, but I don't think it would go.. well if Clyde were to devote a couple of afternoons to show me how to operate a car…"

Lillie sighs, stuffs the bill into her pocket. She has quite the walk ahead. "I need to step up… I think it's right that I do so. Will you, then, give me pointers on how to drive…?"

Oooooh shit.

Clifton chuckles "Pancake…and yeah okay. If you're sure, then I'll teach you." He shakes his head "Lillie relax. I know what you meant. It's fair though, Clyde does have more on his plate than I do so it makes sense anyways for me to teach you. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't prefer Clyde. I mean…it WOULD" he lowers his voice and leans closer "give you guys an extra place to do…stuff." He leans back up and clears his throat with a smirk. "I guess there's only one thing left to decide then. When do you want to have your first driving lesson?"

Told to relax, Lillie works hard to do so. Breathe, breathe; the world isn't quite ending. Tilda is safe, albeit addled; nobody is dead; the car is mostly okay. Clifton knows how to drive and she trusts him, right? Right! Thundercats GO!

"Well, yes.. and-" Then in true Clifton fashion the werewolf disclosed to the Empath why the Alpha would see fit to be saddled in a vehicle with Lillie and she gives his arm a swat. "No.. no!" She cries, color high and radiant. She drops the bodywork bill and kneels to collect it. Drops it again. "I mean it's.. it makes sense but—-Clif! No!" Lillie folds it, stuffs it vehemently into her coat pocket. ".. yes! No-yes!" She takes a breath. "I figure if anyone can negotiate the streets of New York, t'is you… and if anyone can make sure I don't plow anyone over it's… you, too. Clyde would be too much of a distraction." Well, it's true!

She looks at him nervously. "I can have the car delivered to my house. Nobody with half a brain would let Tilda drive it. All they see is that it would be safe there. But…" She trails off, looks down at her feet as the garage begins to close down for the day beside them. "I feel terrible for Tilda.. I figure if I could be the one to carry her, it would help.."

A laugh erupts from the Walker, him quickly ducking his head down to stifle it to distract from any onlooking glares or whispers. His form shakes though as Clifton tries to get it under control. "You're such an easy mark, Lillie…" Watching her struggle with the bill he then smirks to her when she's looking at him again. "Alright. Let me know when it's there and I can come by. What would help more? Just going at it…or having me drive it around a few times first with you riding passenger so you can watch?"

A sharp spike in amusement; the sense fills her gut with a likeness of cold water, jolting her out of her disgruntled, worried state. Lillie stares hard at Clifton as he laughs and controls himself. For all appearances the look, to the general Higsi public, to be two individuals sharing a private joke. "Easy mark..?" The Irish girl trails off, then straightens. "Are you implying that I am gullible?!" She asks abruptly, only for her cheekbones to color. "I…. I guess I can be…" His amusement is a balm too, even at her expense.

"How about… this Sunday, evening? Give them a couple of days to make sure the car is okay, and for me to convince Tilda. I would like very much just to … dive in, headfirst." Lillie admits.

Clifton chuckles "Gullible…easily embarrassed…all the better to torture you with." The plan of Sunday gets another nod from the Walker "Sunday it is. We'll pick somewhere you feel comfortable and you can just go at it then." The Walker looks back to the garage and his brow furrows. "I'm off work for the day. What do you say we go to the Gallows for a bit? Or the Diner. Get your mind off things and we can catch up."

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