Grim was leaning against the back wall, idly tossing his keys in the air and catching them with the same hand. Isre didn't take long. Not long at all- she must've come to the bar already prepared, then. Shit, how bad did she think the gig was going to go? He offered a small wave as he pushed himself off the wall, the gesture leading into a steady point towards his car; "LUCKY BITCH".
She was... characterful. An old model--very old--built in the style of something even older. It was like something you'd see in a movie, and Grim certainly drove like it was. Manual unlock, manual drive- none of this automatic shit, that was too boring for him. He was an android; driving an auto-autocar would just be like... it would be like growing wheels. And a rusty orange shell. And an engine that was way too powerful for the thing it was driving. It would be like moving another body, rather than... y'know, driving? Not his thing.
He unlocked the door and hopped in the driver's seat, opening the passenger side for Isre to follow.
"Folk at the bar call me Mr. Grim." He said, finally answering her question, "Closest I'll come to a name that isn't just a bunch of serial numbers."
"Piece of crap?" Grim sounded genuinely offended, "Well, she's not... okay, you're not wrong."
He slapped his hand against the dashboard.
"I call her Lucky Bitch- Lucky when she works, Bitch when she doesn't. Got her off an old client as thanks. Apparently some guy gave her out in his will as some sort of joke."
He sighed.
"I was the only one laughing. Client got cold feet by the time I was done- but, hey, I still got the car, didn't I?"
He turned the key to start the engine.
"You're right about the android shit- this is, uh, SynFlesh. That's the brand name for it. Real top of the line stuff, super durable."
Guess some people didn't wanna let go of their old shit. Made sense Grim'd get the car out of a job like that, though. Thing looked like it belonged in the scrapyard.
"Neat," Isre replied. "Must be nice. Look like a real boy with none of the crap to deal with, huh?"
She gave a slight, almost imperceptible smile.
Then Grim floored the pedal.
"Fuck!" the Silwin shouted, grabbing at the edges of her seat as her eyes went wide. "Where'd you learn to fucking drive, huh?!"
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
Grim laughed, borderline maniacal as the car continued to accelerate.
"GOOGLE DOT COM"
Still, despite his crazed stare, his posture seemed relaxed. The speed of the vehicle didn't seem to bother him, nor did the lack of proper shielding, nor did the countless near-misses he swerved into on the way. It became quickly and painfully apparent that Grim was a machine- and what that really meant. It was hazard avoidance, yeah? The same shit they put in auto-autocars? Those things can safely go pretty fast, what with all the avoidance algorithms. Grim was just... one of those! Except, instead of being wired directly into the car, he exerted control in the same way an organic would- as hands on a steering wheel, and feet on the pedals.
The metaphor could be applied to more than just his driving, but he didn't care for poetics.
"Oh, right- mind if I put on some tunes?" He asked, tone as casual as before, "The speakers are a bit shit, but it doesn't really matter."
He took his hand off the wheel (and his eyes off the road) to press a few buttons next to a screen.
Then, in an act of sacreligion to the punk rocker in the passenger seat, his personal playlist began.
Ooooh, this was a mistake. This was a big fucking mistake.
She didn't know it now, but that wasn't the first or last time she'd think that this night.
Hands scrambling around the cabin for some sort of brace - the shifting and jerking of the car made no one position safe - she eventually settled on clinging to the seat behind her and locking her knees beneath the dashboard.
"Uh - music! Sure! Wait, no -"
The fucker TOOK HIS EYES OFF THE ROAD to mess with the dials. Worst part was, the sound that came on after was not worth almost dying to listen to in the fucking slightest.
"Are we almost there? Please tell me we're almost fucking there."
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!