Cahill spent a considerable amount of time in his shop. Often, it felt like he lived there more than he lived at his actual home. It wasn’t that he minded. Noah was at an age now, and had been for some time, where he didn’t need constant supervision. Really, he didn’t need supervision at all. Their relationship, if it had ever been anything to the contrary, was far more of a friendship than anything else.
If he slept at the shop one night, he didn’t have to worry about Noah doing something crazy. Chances were good, if either of the two of them were going to do something crazy, it’d be him rather than Noah. The two of them spent more time these days worrying about each other and a quick text between them was enough to make sure that they didn’t spend half the night thinking the other had died or were laying in a ditch somewhere.
The fact that he’d woken up on the couch in the garage wasn’t all that surprising; not once he fully let himself adjust to the scene around him. Taking a slow breath, he could smell the grease and oil of the shop, mingled with the tinge of something almost more familiar than the usual smells of the shop. Blood. He sat up quickly before the thoughts from the night before fully came back to him and his muscles relaxed. It wasn’t fresh–wasn’t something he needed to fix immediately. A young werewolf was in the room upstairs, still struggling with the new reality of being turned into something that he never expected. The blood was his own, and Cahill had left everything necessary for him to clean up and rest until he felt well enough to get up.
Shifting, he stood slowly and stretched out. It was already later than normal and he was walking over to the door to flip on a light and the ‘open’ sign. Sure, there was still the fact that he looked like he’d just woken up but he didn’t really need to impress a whole lot of people at nine am on a Thursday morning. He hit the garage opener, letting the wide door pull open and some of the light and fresh air seep in. Running his hands through his hair, he stretched again and stifled a yawn.
No shoes on his feet yet and the same clothes he’d been wearing the night before, though his over shirt had been stripped off sometime while he was sleeping. He could see it crumbled on the floor by the end of the couch. There was blood on it from the boy upstairs, but most of it lost somewhere in the pile of fabric. He’d take care of that soon.
Or maybe sooner. Someone was pulling up and his gaze shifted from the approaching customer to the shift for a second before he simply shifted, heading to draw their gaze towards him instead of further into the shop. It was far enough in the back that he assumed–hopefully–that it wouldn’t be the object of their focus. As they moved towards the door, he offered a slight night. “Morning.”
There weren’t a whole lot of objects that Kaden put a lot of care into. Besides his weapons, at least. The few items of clothing he had were usually tossed on the floor and all of them were utilitarian at best. As long as they work on a hunt, he didn’t care what they looked like or how ratty they may be. He had a tool kit and first aide kit and both kits had seen better days. Beat up and well worn was an understatement. His backpack and any suitcases were lucky they were still holding up. He didn’t care. If they broke, he’d replace them. Eventually. Kaden travelled so much that he didn’t take much with him anyway. If it couldn’t fit in his car, it didn’t come with him and it probably didn’t matter anyway.
His car, on the other hand, was another story. It was a 68 Buick Electra that he fixed up. It wasn’t one hundred percent perfect, he didn’t have the time or money for that, but she was a hell of a lot better off than the piece of junk he’d bought. Someday he’d get it to perfect. It’d be a while off, though. There were too many monsters in the world to spare too much time for his vehicle. Hell, there were too many monsters just in this damn town alone for him to even think about taking a weekend for Layla.
He’d had every intention of finding an auto shop around the area sooner or later just for a place to work on touch ups and tweaks. Seemed like it was going to be much sooner than later.
Kaden hadn’t been missing his reflection too much, fussing with his hair and shaving could wait; that part of this mirror debacle was fine. What wasn’t fine was how this was affecting driving. More specifically how other people drove.
That morning he woke up to find some fucker had left a dent in the left back side. Asshole couldn’t have run into another, shittier car? He barely had the cash for this. But he sure as shit wasn’t going to drive around with a dent in his car either.
As luck would have it, there was a shop not too far off from the Silver Bullet. He’d noticed it the other night and planned to check it out. Guess that time was now.
Pulling in, the place looked like a run of the mill small town locally owned place. Should be just what he was looking for.
Only as soon as he got out of his car, he got the sense this might not be the right place before he even slammed the door shut. His hunter radar was going off. Werewolves were nearby. “Morning,” he answered the guy working there curtly. It would be his luck that the first shop in town he found had werewolves working there. “Got a dent in her from a shit driver. They decided not to leave their info so guess I’m on my own.” He ran his hand against the edge of the vehicle lightly as he went to re-examine the damage. “Not too bad, I could probably have managed it myself if I had the tools and the space.”