[ The hand on her shoulder feels like a bit more than nothing; warm, friendly. Her quiet smile doesn't go away, instead tilting and becoming something a bit more comfortable. And then, taking his hand as offered. Her handshake isn't as soft as someone might assume when looking at her — although her hand might be half the size of his, there's an unusual amount of strength behind it.
She signs, rather than types — ] Deal.
[ The project she ends up choosing is rebuilding a wheelchair that had been torn into individual parts, some of them nearly unrecognisable. The wheel spokes straighten easily enough under her fingers, the backing easily reinforced with thin metal plates. She ends up rifling through a spare parts bins she finds in the corner (without asking!), jury-rigging what doesn't have an accessible part. Once or twice, she has to go back a step or two, remove a part, adjust an inch or a screw or a filament, and try again.
She thinks of Charles, a little, and it's a very warming feeling to accompany her work. If it was his chair, she'd want it to be incredibly safe, infallibly functional, so she puts the same amount of work for — whoever needs it, for the hope it helps.
By the time he gets back from his fourth or fifth moving trip, she's testing the chair by, uh, doing doughnuts between the work desks, front wheels in the air. The chair is as sturdy as it is versatile, that much is clear. ]
[ He's going to have to ask her to teach him some of those hand gestures later on. She's not the only person he's run into who might have a use for them, and it's got to be much easier than typing everything out on her phone all of the time.
The new workshop's not all that far from where he's currently staying, so Cid manages to make a few trips over the next few hours. Every time he returns to the motel room, he checks up on how Kimiko is doing, offering another pat on the shoulder or a word of encouragement about how it's looking, but mostly keeping his nose out of it unless she's really going too far in the wrong direction, or if asks him to look at something. Cid's always been of the opinion that the best way to learn is to do things for one's self, even if it means making a mistake here and there.
To her credit, she's tenacious. Clever. He's glad that she's not particularly interested in theft, or he'd really have been in trouble with this one.
By the time he makes the last trip back, there's a faint crease between his brows, though it's got nothing to do with present company. His dour expression softens when he gets a look at her, chair completed. He's clearly proud of her, but gods forbid he say that. ]
Oi. Didn't I say no fun allowed? [ Teasing. He said nothing of the sort.
Cid rubs at his left shoulder, rolling it absently against the heel of his palm. That's about all of the moving he's going to be able to do without putting an ice pack on it, and it's his own fault. ] Ready for me to have a look? If it's all good, we can drop it off, then go and get some thing to eat. Unless you've got to be getting back?
[ The front wheels come back down gently when he admonishes her. His oi, for a brief moment, leaves a beat of panic in between the notches of her spine; but the voice is different, the face is kinder, the words are teasing. There's an agreeable little nod as she rises from the chair, sets the kickstand down. With it locked in a stationary position, she gives him a quick demonstration of the functionality — up to and including the mechanised joystick control on the left arm that can turn the wheels. (That part was repaired back to basic operation, not engineered from scratch, and might still need Cid to smooth out some of the crudeness. Way beyond her capabilities.)
All in all, it's a much nicer way to spend her time. All she's getting is muffins and lunch, she knows, but it only takes her a second or two of consideration to realise she doesn't miss the Dome at all.
He asks if she needs to be getting back, she spreads her fingers, shakes her head — no.
Types out, once he's done his examination: ] Pizza?
[ He means it, too. Any mistakes she might have made weren't for lack of care or attention.
They close up shop and deliver the chair to a man who goes by Teddy on the first floor. He's a bit of a grump, even by Cid's standards, but he's nice enough to Kimiko. Cid introduces her as his apprentices, tells the man that she's handled the repair, but he doesn't otherwise intervene. Teddy pays her half in cookies and half in joolies, and then they're off again. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
She signs, rather than types — ] Deal.
[ The project she ends up choosing is rebuilding a wheelchair that had been torn into individual parts, some of them nearly unrecognisable. The wheel spokes straighten easily enough under her fingers, the backing easily reinforced with thin metal plates. She ends up rifling through a spare parts bins she finds in the corner (without asking!), jury-rigging what doesn't have an accessible part. Once or twice, she has to go back a step or two, remove a part, adjust an inch or a screw or a filament, and try again.
She thinks of Charles, a little, and it's a very warming feeling to accompany her work. If it was his chair, she'd want it to be incredibly safe, infallibly functional, so she puts the same amount of work for — whoever needs it, for the hope it helps.
By the time he gets back from his fourth or fifth moving trip, she's testing the chair by, uh, doing doughnuts between the work desks, front wheels in the air. The chair is as sturdy as it is versatile, that much is clear. ]
no subject
The new workshop's not all that far from where he's currently staying, so Cid manages to make a few trips over the next few hours. Every time he returns to the motel room, he checks up on how Kimiko is doing, offering another pat on the shoulder or a word of encouragement about how it's looking, but mostly keeping his nose out of it unless she's really going too far in the wrong direction, or if asks him to look at something. Cid's always been of the opinion that the best way to learn is to do things for one's self, even if it means making a mistake here and there.
To her credit, she's tenacious. Clever. He's glad that she's not particularly interested in theft, or he'd really have been in trouble with this one.
By the time he makes the last trip back, there's a faint crease between his brows, though it's got nothing to do with present company. His dour expression softens when he gets a look at her, chair completed. He's clearly proud of her, but gods forbid he say that. ]
Oi. Didn't I say no fun allowed? [ Teasing. He said nothing of the sort.
Cid rubs at his left shoulder, rolling it absently against the heel of his palm. That's about all of the moving he's going to be able to do without putting an ice pack on it, and it's his own fault. ] Ready for me to have a look? If it's all good, we can drop it off, then go and get some thing to eat. Unless you've got to be getting back?
moving toward a wrap? 🎀
All in all, it's a much nicer way to spend her time. All she's getting is muffins and lunch, she knows, but it only takes her a second or two of consideration to realise she doesn't miss the Dome at all.
He asks if she needs to be getting back, she spreads her fingers, shakes her head — no.
Types out, once he's done his examination: ] Pizza?
wrapped 🎀
[ He means it, too. Any mistakes she might have made weren't for lack of care or attention.
They close up shop and deliver the chair to a man who goes by Teddy on the first floor. He's a bit of a grump, even by Cid's standards, but he's nice enough to Kimiko. Cid introduces her as his apprentices, tells the man that she's handled the repair, but he doesn't otherwise intervene. Teddy pays her half in cookies and half in joolies, and then they're off again. ]
Lunch is on you, then? [ Cid teases.
It's a good start, all told. ]