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It was a beautiful warm day, the type she'd like to spend riding in the back of her truck rather than driving, or under one of her many projects that were in various stages of restoration in her rented garage. It was not meant to be, however; she'd been spending the last week covering for Rosie at the bakery, what with the Blackfriars bullshit that had gone down. Jo didn't know the details, only that her boss and dear friend was hurt and she could do something to help.

It was strange, to be relied on. She liked it.

Biting back a smile, she made a turn to a straight run of road, immediately picking out that there was someone on the side of the road. Usually, she would have passed on like any other individual, but gaining on them, she picked out that it wasn't just any type of pull-over -- it was a motorcycle. A crotch rocket, to be more precise. Jo wrinkled her nose at the choice of wheels but a cycle was still a cycle, and anyone who rode one was pretty much kin on sight.

Exhaling sharply against her bottom lip to blow her bangs out of her eyes, she pulled her old Hudson truck over a short ways behind the bike and its owner, hopping out in a small bounce. Jo was ill dressed to get dirty, but she drove a restored beater of a truck that had a toolbox in the back; clothes could be washed, but she didn't always get the chance to use her powers for good, so to speak. The power of knowing how to get around a bike and make it functional.

Approaching the driver with a neutral expression - save for the barest upward lilt of one side of her lips - she went about gathering her waterfall of hair in her hands, using a tie on her wrist to put it up in a loose and messy bun. "You doin' okay?" she called to the owner - a man - stuffing her hands in her shorts pockets, her loose Nirvana tank top sliding towards the edge of her shoulder. "Need any help?"

Jo lifted a brow slightly, a brief ripple of amusement over her features. "I admit your bike isn't exactly my expertise," she flashed a grin, "but I know my way around 'em. If you want me to take a look." She hooked her thumb over her shoulder at the truck. "If not - and that's fine, a man's bike is a sacred thing - I can give you a lift into town."

That, however, would require more time spent and had a potential for long silences. She'd rather take a look and see if she could fix it and send him on his way, but not everyone liked the idea of a female working on mechanical things.

Her index finger joined her thumb in the pointing gesture. "I gotta toolbox and some know how, but if you have the know how, you're free to use the tools." She turned to look at the truck, and then back to the man, sighing softly. "I'm Jo, or Joey, whichever. Not so great at the social part of helping but I promise, I just want to help." Another faint, subtle smile is shared, rocking on her heels and shrugging at her own honesty.

Jo reached back and scratched the back of her head beneath her seafoam dyed bun, tilting her head to the side to look at the guy carefully. She didn't blame him for being stand-offish, but was a little surprised he wasn't really forthcoming. It was, for a moment, like looking at herself four years ago.

"Mm, yeah, the catch is you have to trust me for about ten minutes. Sorry champ, thems the rules."

Turning on her heel, she marched back to her truck and jumped on the runner, leaning over the back of the bed to open the silver toolbox that ran along the back. "What's it doing?" she called over the cab, leaning back enough to look at him, a flexible flashlight held between her teeth. "Sputtering? Not turning over?"

"Common in those things," she replied, digging around for a handful of seconds before she emerged with a small container, a screwdriver and a wire. Jo walked back towards the other, stuffing the driver and wire into her back pocket, tapping the container. "Hopefully we wont have to use this, but, the things I know to test wont make it explode." It was her basic way of saying her feminine hands weren't going to break his vehicle.

Shifting beyond him, she kneeled down and unfastened the hatch, lifting it and checking the fuel line. "How long has it been going on?" she asked methodically, pursing her lips to blow off some of the dirt that accumulated over the screw. "And how long have you been here?" Jo looked over to him, squinting up against the sun. "Don't think I've seen you 'round these parts, you or your bike. I usually remember one or the other."

It was a shot in the dark, but not a far one, judging by how he was acting.

"I'm checking the fuel line," she said out loud, in case the man was interested. "Then I'm gonna check the fuel in the float-bowl drain and make sure it's all clean, so you might lose a little gas." Jo tugged the screwdriver out of her pocket and leaned in towards the gas tank, tucking the container she had beneath it. A quick twist one way, a quick twist back, and that step was done.

Green eyes turned back up to him. "Yeah, no offense, but it shows. Ashdown is a pretty friendly city, for the most part. Not without its crime and weird stuff but, ce la vie." That subtle smile returned, barely there. "Not many of us watch someone trying to help like they're gonna spring and tear out our throats." A faint chuckle and a slight shake of her head, and she was back to business, inspecting the color of the liquid in the container.

"Now, I'm not going to pump the fuel line with the key in, too many chances for sparks out here, but I'm pretty sure it's not the fuel connection or dirty intake." She stood, showing him the clean fuel in the container, the small bit there was. "So far so good? I can continue?"

A well manicured brow was hiked at the response, but didn't immediately reply, instead kneeling back down and lifting the side cover off and to the side. "Checking your carburetor," she intoned, pointing to a golden piece that had two tubes coming out of it. "But it looks clean. That's good, because that's a pricey problem. The hoses look secure and aren't broken or gunked up so I wont pull 'em off." The side panel was put back on, though she looked up at him again as she did so.

"Which part unsettles you? That we're all friendly or we have crime despite everything?" The panel clicked into place and she stood, wiping the grease on her hands off on her shorts. She paused then, hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side to really regard him. "If it's that bad, I hope you're just here temporarily. But, you know, good luck finding somewhere else."

"Ah." With that cleared, Jo waved a dismissive hand, leaning over to check the spark plugs. "It's the 'spooky' part that shakes your jimmies. Got it." Righting herself, she slung her leg over the seat and straddled the bike, squinting at the handlebars. "Spark plugs are clear. And if you don't like spooky, you're gonna be upended in it."

Jo looked over to him with a neutral expression. "You'll learn to embrace the people or you're going to be stuck with only the weird for company. Kidnappings, fog, whatever went down at Blackfriars -- it's kind of par for the course." She wasn't very bothered by it, other than her boss having been in recovery for the crap that went down at the school. That was enough to make her clench her jaw but what was done was done.

Turning back to the bike, she used her screwdriver to gently poke at the safety switch on the handles. "I've only been here half a dozen years, ish, and it kind of becomes background noise - ah hah!" Jo turned in the seat again, motioning for him to come over. "Look, your safety switch is going bad, it's why you're starting sometimes and stopping completely others." The screwdriver gently pressed the small piece of plastic, but there was no resistance. "You go to the right person, it might be twenty bucks. I buy around a lot, Ricardo's on Salerno will probably have it in stock if you need it fast. I can jimmy it to bypass that if you want, but it means no safety clutch and if you get in an accident, well...that's on you."

Dismounting the bike, she put the container on the ground and picked up the cover, starting to set it back in place. "We're not all out for your blood, though, so maybe give us a chance, huh? Some of us even know a thing or two about bikes." She lifted her brow at him again, tilting her head to the side in a 'how bout it?' fashion.

"I'm not going to chalk it up to aliens or weather fluctuations or whatever else people believe to help them sleep at night." Jo chuckled, finishing putting everything back in place and picking up the container from where she'd put it. "It's just weird s**t, champ. Not everything needs an answer. Sometimes it's easier to digest that way."

She brushed past him to put away her tools, sealing the container with a cap and putting it away to dispose of later. Jo turned back to him but didn't approach any further than the door to her Hudson, hand over the window that was rolled down. "I can reimburse you for the gas if you want, but you'll have to stop by the bakery off the main street downtown, I don't carry cash. That, however, will also cost you a name, so, choose wisely." One foot on the running board, she looked at him, waiting to see if there was anything else.