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[/i][/INDENT][/INDENT][CENTER][COLOR=04cf3a][sup]________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][img]https://i.imgur.com/boAerIi.jpeg[/img] [/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=04cf3a][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Home - Debolt, Alberta, Canada[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=04cf3a][b]Human #5.076:[/b][/COLOR] [color=white][I][b]Hands on the Wheel[/b][/I][/color][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=04cf3a][SUP][sub]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][INDENT][sub][color=04cf3a][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I][/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][b]Previously:[/b] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5585511][I]I'd Love you Without Any Wings Attached[/I][/url][/right][/SUP]

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[color=lightgray]“Shop is a block that way. Can’t miss it.”[/color]

The truck squealed to a stop, and the gearshift crunched into the correct position as Miller gave Rory a curt nod. He had been gracious enough and had the foresight to schedule the drive into town when the two had first moved in, as even the two lovebirds wouldn’t be able to subsist on deli meat, government cheese, and trail mix for very long. It wasn’t a very big village, a bit larger than the single road towns from a Western by technicality. Rory felt like he was on the set of a movie, rather than in any part of Canada he had ever known before this trip.

He’d pinch himself to wake himself from the dream, but the pain that radiated through his legs as he made the transition into the wheelchair was a fair substitute.

Haven’s kiss lingered on his cheek as she made her way towards the independent grocer they had parked in front of. His eyes followed her as she entered, his hoodie easily hiding the fresh signs of her healing. Miller began slowly walking up the sidewalk, with Rory following a few moments later. A few locals passed by, eyeing up Rory with a mix of curiosity and warm smiles. He knew it was only a matter of time before they began asking questions he didn’t know yet how to answer. But for now, they settled to give him distance.

A small bell announced Miller and Rory’s arrival in the cramped hardware store. The aisles were barely large enough for his wheelchair to roll down, and the collection of bits and tools were stored in bins and boxes of varying sizes and colors. A middle-aged man in an old painter’s jumpsuit looked up over the rim of his glasses towards the two from his stool behind the counter, his eyes naturally wandering over Rory’s figure. Faint jazz music drifted from an old radio hidden somewhere out of view. A fading patch over the man’s left breast read “Ashburn” in distinctive red lettering. Rory gave a quick look up to Miller, who approached the counter.

[color=lightgray]“Kid here is renting my hunting cabin for the time being, and was in the market for a beater. Told him I knew just the bastard.”[/color]

A small smile twitched the corner of the stranger’s lips as he turned to look back to Rory, standing up and coming around the corner with a hand outstretched. Rory took it, and muttered out a few words. [color=04cf3a]“I’m Rory. Been travelling West. Looking to settle down for a bit.”[/color]

The stranger nodded, cracking his neck and running his tongue across his inner lip. Rory knew the man wanted to ask, but his melancholic expression seemed to repel it. [color=white]“Well, you can call me Gus. Not often we get strangers in town who want to stay.”[/color] He turned his gaze back behind the counter, tilting his head back and forth as if weighing his options, before turning back with a grin. [color=white]“Tell you what… the thing is rusting out back anyways. I’d let it go for a grand.”[/color]

Rory reached into his coat pocket, producing a small stack of brightly colored bills. [color=04cf3a]“Cash ok?”[/color]

Gus raised an eyebrow towards Miller, who only shrugged in response. He looked back towards Rory. [color=white]"You always keep cash like that on you?"[/color]

Rory hesitated, his hands frozen as the wheels in his head turned. Miller didn't seem to care, but the last thing he needed was for folks to start getting weary. So, he shook his head. [color=04cf3a]"Well, uh... I kind of withdrew cash from my bank back home. Hard to go out of my way to a bank like this."[/color] He motioned towards his lower half, his words dripping with a hint of frustration. He continued counting out the payment, before holding it out in front of him.

Gus nodded, shrugging his shoulders. He lowered a hand to accept the bills. [color=white]"Fair enough."[/color]

Rory breathed a slight sigh of relief. His eyes drifted, trying to drown out the uneasy feeling in his chest. Among the various tools and materials were various homemade items. Small abstract vases and hand-carved trinkets filled up what would be the few empty spaces in the shop. Near the door, resting in an old grated trash can, were a few canes. Rory instinctively pocketed his remaining cash and rolled his way over near the door, lifting one up to admire it. Gus looked up as he finished counting the payment, setting the money down on the counter and walking over. [color=white]”Made these myself… but most folks around here who need them already have one. Or are too stubborn to admit they need one.”[/color] Rory didn’t need to look up to notice the side-eye Gus had flashed towards his old pal. Miller rolled his eyes and scoffed, trying to make a point to stand up a little straighter than he had been. [color=white]”I’d be happy to let ya take whichever ones you like… but I do have a favor I’d like to ask of ya in exchange.”[/color]

Rory raised an eyebrow as he turned to face Gus, who was already holding out an old set of keys. [color=04cf3a]”What did you have in mind?”[/color]

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