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With his broken arm, Parker hadn't been able to tinker like he liked to usually do. He spent most nights working on deconstructing clocks and remotes and electric can openers and then reassembling them so that their inner parts were visible. Why not see the beautiful machinery that makes electronics go? His handicap kept him from doing the work himself, but it didn't mean that Parker had to neglect his love of gadgetry all together. He might not be able to do it, but he sure as hell could look at other people do it.

That night, Parker headed across town to the industrial area to see a car show. It wasn't the normal sportscar-ridden car show that populated the average mechanic-enthusiast's schedule. This was a show dedicated to people who took hunks of junk and turned them into unique and functional vehicles. Parker, of course, was most interested in seeing some of the steampunk entries -- in particular, a boat that was reworked into a motorcycle and an old Ford with an external engine. He even brought his messenger bag and two moleskin notebooks for some copious notes. Very copious.

Sliding past women in tight pants and men in leather jackets, Parker strayed toward the part of the crowd that looked a bit less cartoon-y. There was a woman with two kids, and a handful of men rubbing at their beards and staring at the first car in the show. Different vehicles had been displayed thoroughout the warehouse, and though the introverted part of Parker begged him to skip the crowded first room and move right into the second, he fought to stay in place and drink in the craftsmanship of the vehicle sitting in front of him.

From the look of it, the crowd was mostly older. Parker couldn't see another teenager from where he stood. The boy didn't feel bad about it. If anything, it made him feel a little more refined. Slipping through the crowd, Parker made his way to the front, thighs bumping against a fading red velvet rope, and gave himself a moment to just stare at the first vehicle. After a few minutes, he whipped out his moleskin journal and pen and began to scribble notes erratically between glances upward.

Parker was used to spending his time alone, even if it meant taking notes in a room full of people talking happily around him. For the most part, he was ignored, or perhaps just bumped a little, sometimes a soft "sorry" would accompany those intrusions, sometimes not. When the blond girl began to speak beside him, however, Parker could not pretend he hadn't heard her. He glanced up from his notes, flipping the soft cover shut. It's not like he wrote anything particular magnificent down, but it was a kneejerk reflex to hide what he was doing.

His eyes appraised the girl -- tall, blonde, perhaps some kind of teenage greasemonkey. Parker was a tad surprised he hadn't noticed her earlier, but he didn't give much thought to it as he dropped the notebook to his side. "Memory isn't reliable. It can be warped by later experiences. So I take notes," he said, shrugging. Based on looks alone, this girl didn't seem like a meticulous note-taker, but Parker wasn't ready to label her just yet.

Parker glanced back to the car, then to his feet, then back to the girl. Beside them, a couple clad in matching leather jumpsuits made cooing noises at the first vehicle. Silently, Parker inched away from them. Weirdos. There was little time for him to process an easy way out of the conversation before the girl was questioning him again. She had the brassy loudness that he'd seen in a Southern cousin and the same shade of hair. Of course, he didn't really like that cousin so it wasn't the most favorable comparison in the world.

On cue, Parker glanced to his cast. He had finally gotten out of the metal rods that held the cast aloft at his side, but he was still sporting a hefty black cast creeping past his elbow. It would be coming off soon, and for that, Parker was glad. He was clumsy enough without the physical impediment. Despite the blond girl's extroverted blurting out, Parker did not join her level of fervor. He waited a few moments, and when he finally spoke, he kept his voice low, his eyes moving down to hers, "I'm not exactly an athlete." Beat. "At all." If he thought it would scare her off, Parker would have volunteered that his injury was a result of an attack from multiple senshi and negaverse agents. But Parker had a sneaking suspicion that this girl might be the excitable type who would love to hear all the details of a story like that. Instead, he shuffled awkwardly and said, "Nice car," gesturing toward the blue bit of machinery that sat before them on a platform. It looked as though someone had taken a normal sedan, cut it in half, took out a foot or so, and then soldered it back together.

Which was actually entirely possible.

For a moment, Parker just stared at Ellie. Then a smirk cracked his lips. He used a finger to slide up his sleeve just slightly and turned a pale wrist toward her. "Look, Ma, no scars," he said. With better delivery, it might have been funny, but Parker said it like he was ordering fast food. It wasn't the first time (or 20th) time in his life that someone had associated his realistic, in his eyes, view of the world as something depressing, or perhaps symptomatic of some self-hatred he might have. At least she said it in jest.

Her tone grated on Parker, but most people's did. He tried to sustain it, eyes flickering back to the car every so often. She was the only person near his age he could see, and if he had to choose between talking to her or the man wearing the SIZE MATTERS trucker hat, this girl didn't seem like such a bad option. At least she appeared to have an opinion on the cars. "Impractical, sure, but it's the engineering behind it that is appealing. If you're just looking for flash, you should go to a sportscar show at some upper-class garage sale." Derision slipped into his tone, but he smoothed it over by sliding right into his introduction. "Parker," he said, stepping forward a bit under the strength of her handshake. It was more intense than he expected, but judging from her behavior until this point, Parker assumed it would be a continuing trend.

Two women bumped by Parker, and he moved a few steps forward for them to pass before returning to his spot. "I go to Hillworth," he said, immediately fixating on her eyes to look for signs of disapproval or snobbery. Ellie went to Meadowview, which was nice. Maybe she even knew Dani?

The abstract art that Ellie waved away was precisely what Parker liked about it. It was a creation with a repurposed function. Who cared if it went fast? He shot Ellie a skeptical gaze, raising his eyebrows. "I prefer brilliant engineering and design to speed," he said dismissively. A fast car was a fast car. But the works that they were looking at that day were much more than that. Without a car of his own, Parker couldn't really understand the appeal. He didn't even have his own license.

When Ellie nudged him to look, Parker did, scanning the crowd until he found the man in glasses she described. Her description was pretty accurate, actually. "Oh right," he said, noncommittal. A part of Parker just wanted to end the conversation right then and there so he could continue his note-taking and staring, but Ellie was mildly entertaining. Her annoying characteristics were pretty easy for him to overlook too, which was nice. It didn't hurt that he enjoyed looking like he actually came with someone, as opposed to going it alone.

Then she asked about Hillworth. Ugh.

Parker knew he was opening a potential can of worms when he told her that, but he was just looking to gauge her facial expression, not have super special share time about his crappy life. At least she looked interested and not disgusted? Meh, Parker ignored that silver lining. He turned to face her directly, stared her right in the eye, and said in a low voice, "I killed my brother." Then he turned immediately back to front and pretended to be vastly interested in the car he had already been staring at for several minutes.

Parker thought he had made a very funny, very dry joke. In his mind, Ellie would get a brief look of horror and then, in a quiet voice, ask, "Did you really?" He'd let her dangle for a while before telling her that, no, he didn't kill his brother. He didn't even have a brother. But Parker certainly didn't think Ellie would believe his lie, let alone sort of... compliment him about it. The air of satisfaction that had wafted about him moments before drained from his face, eyes widening slightly. Wait, was this girl a psychopath? What sane girl would want to hang out with someone she suspected to be a brother-killer? Yes, it was certainly more fun to tell her a false answer than to bemoan the story of how he ended up at Hillworth with no money because his dad was in jail and no other family would claim him. But now he was stuck in a lie, and before he could correct the situation, Ellie was already moving.

And wait -- if she belonged in a female Hillworth, was she trying to say that she had killed someone?

Um. Parker needed an adult.

Trapped in a terrible backfiring of his own joke, Parker felt compelled to trail behind the potential-psycho, following her wake to avoid the crowd. He definitely didn't want to poke the sleeping grizzly. "I hadn't made it over there, no," he said, though they had pretty much already reached the next car by the time he got the words out. Hoping to steer the question away from what had just happened, Parker asked, "Do you hate this one too?" and then took a step ever-so-slightly away from Ellie's immediate vicinity.

Parker eyed Ellie with a bit more caution than he had before. Should he tell her he was kidding about the brother-killing? Maybe he should... but maybe not. As much as he thought it, Parker never said the words, instead fidgeting with his notebook to occupy his hands and moving his focus to the car. He more or less ignored Ellie's chiding. "The welding is amazing there," he said, pointing to one spot along the front wheel. Parker didn't know much about cars themselves, but he knew quite a bit about welding and soldering.

It wasn't a stretch for Parker to think that Ellie raced cars. She had that aggressive-yet-flippant air about her. He doubted she was someone who thought much about consequences. "So you race fast cars. I didn't realize there was a community for that in Destiny City," he said, reaching out to feel the welding he had just pointed out to Ellie. "It isn't the kind of thing that I would do. I like to create my own mechanical works. Cars aren't usually in that category." Parker wanted to tell her cars were not his forte before she figured it out later.

Parker decided it was a good thing that Ellie was a big talker. He didn't really have much to say, and the few words that he had spoken had convinced the girl that he was a brother-killing cutter.

Not a great start.

When Ellie produced the photo, Parker leaned in to get a look. He didn't know a lot about bikes, but he made noises of approval as if he did. "The rainbow touch is a surprise," he said, charming as ever. It wasn't that Parker was incapable of complimenting others. He was just a critical person naturally; his first thought was always "how could this be improved." Ego-stroking was not really his forte.

The girl had a point. Parker saw yellow mopeds and motorcycles all the time. One of his online friends blamed their sudden resurgence on the anime FLCL, but yellow sportscar had risen to popularity years before. The logic didn't exactly follow. He stole one last glance at the rainbow-stained bike and then glanced back to the car on display. For all the talking they were doing, Parker didn't spend much time looking at Ellie. It wasn't that she was unattractive (though not quite his type). Parker just wasn't sure what to do with her. Incredibly friendly people had a tendency to do that to him.

"I'll keep an eye out," he said at last. If a rainbow blur ever passed him, it would pass him as a pedestrian. Parker had no car to speak of. Given Ellie's need for speed... yeah, maybe it was better if he didn't see her on the road.

Leaning to one side to get a look at the other side of the car, Parker fought the urge to whip out his notebook again. Cars weren't the only thing he wrote about in there, and Ellie seemed like the type to snatch things that weren't hers. She might be the type to read her younger sister's diary, if she had one. Absentmindedly, he adjusted the messenger bag that rested at his side, and when he straightened back up, Ellie was whispering in his ear. Yikes.

For a moment, Parker expected to feel a gun sticking into his side too, her lips quietly whispering, "Now you and I are going outside. Act natural." It certainly would fit with his typical run of (bad) luck. But the truth? Parker could handle that. Especially if it meant Ellie wasn't some kind of homicide-lover. "It's none of your business," he said coolly. Parker took one last glance at the car and then began to move toward the next display. It was a steampunk'd motorcycle.