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Julie is listening to some records on a clever little record player in the garage, doors open to the summer night, …there's a flathead V-8 sitting out on a stand, eponymous heads, at present open, and despite the old-school rock and roll playing, she's not working on that, but rather is at a desk she uses for shop class, fussing over a slide rule and a book of tables.
Sage parked her own car - Vauxhall Wyvern - outside the garage. She sticks her head in via some side door, peering inside. "And how do you expect me to bring the Wyvern inside?" She could've used telepathy. Especially with the music going. But didn't. Maybe she likes to yell. "Today is the day you said you'd have time to look it over, isn't it?"
Nice night out in Westchester. The breeze rustling the leaves around the grounds, the lake rippling as the light gusts push the surface to lap against the shore. The fresh air. Then the pungent smelling smoke. Logan can be stealthy when he needs to be, but otherwise there's a cloud that follows him around and announces his presence before he arrives if the wind is just right. Leaning against the garage door, the runt peeks in to see what the resident mechanic is up to this evening. He glances through to the side door as Sage peeks in, "Evenin'."
Julie glances up from her… well, maybe it's class homework. Or something about the recent construction project downstairs, perhaps. "Ay, evening." She casts a hand toward the engine stand and says, to Sage, "Don't worryboutit, pull on in," she says, "That guy I know came through with some of the stuff we'll need." She moves said engine by the simple expedient of the stand being on casters. as is a nearby toolbench. Winks to Logan. "I know a guy who can get stuff for these British jobs and German ones, too. Sometimes they gotta put em on a boat is all."
To Tessa's credit, she does not wrinkle her nose at the lingering smell around Logan when it hits her… even though she looks precisely like the kind of person who might do so. Prim, proper. Received Pronunciation English accent. She just nods at Julie and returns the greeting. "Evening." It's only a few minutes before she's back, pulling in her Vauxhall where there's room.
The more reclusive of the folks that live around here doesn't socialize with too many at the institute, but he has a respect for anyone who likes to get their hands dirty in a garage. He also has been out of civilization for a while and may need some help tracking down a certain bike. While Sage disappears to go pull her vehicle in, Logan glances over at Julie upon her mention of a guy who can secure British parts. "Think yer friend can get ahold o' some bike parts?"
Julie nods, to Logan. "I figure, if we can't get them here already. Those British bikes always had kind of a following over here, if that's what you mean. More than that, he knows a lot of this stuff inside and out. You listen to a guy like that." Her own accent, of course, is New York Italian and as blue-collar as her favored surroundings, all slide-rules aside. When the Vauxhall pulls in, she helps direct Sage to a spot, but calls out, "Leave 'er running a minute, so's I can check a few things out!" She then seems to pause to maybe-listen, or, really, just stare a bit oddly at the motor, …she hasn't bothered to open the bonnet as yet. Next, walks around to the tailpipe, and sort of wafts exhaust fumes toward her nose. She winks to Sage as she comes back around, reassuringly. "Anyone want a beer, by the way? "
Sage watches Julie 'stare' at the Vauxhall. She knows it's not just staring, but still… "…All right. What ARE you doing?" she asks. Because Tessa is sure none of Jule's powers revolve around sniffing the exhaust. Those thoughts are interrupted, however, by the offer of beer. "What brand?" she asks, curious.
Julie ahs, and says, "Got some of the usual Schaeffers, and some cans of Schlitz, cause they was out last week." Well, two kinds of American beer. "Or, ah, I got some vodka from Yuliya for working on her fuel and carburetion in that van of hers. There's a bit of a pause about Tessa's other query. Realizes it's about the tailpipe, "They say it's like horses, you can tell a lot by what comes out the aft end. Bad gaskets and valve seats don't spin, and all."
Sage considers her options. "I wouldn't say no to vodka," she admits. Usually she has some for some kind of occasion. Business related celebrations, at her old job. "Do they? I never heard that before… though admittedly you're the only mechanically-inclined person I know."
Julie nods, opening the bonnet and propping it up, hunting with a finger, fiddling remotely with a carb screw. "Oh, sure. You can tell if something's running too rich, if there's coolant getting in the cylinders, all kinds of stuff, always worth a check if you want something in tune." She heads over to a fridge she's finally brought in, and pops open a padlock, without actually touching it, to fish out beers and a bottle of likely- good Russian vodka. The shot glasses don't match, but she's obtained some.
Sage isn't so finicky she'd complain about shot glasses, thankfully. She murmurs her thanks before raising the glass, tilting it slighty in Julie's direction for a moment. "Running too rich?" she asks, looking for clarification.
Julie ohs, there. "Yer fuel-air mixture, too much fuel, it's rich, too little, it's lean. All part of a tune-up and all. Also, so's asking how the old girl's been running for you."
"Very well, thank you." The last checkup did the car some good. "I did look into finding a few books and manuals about car repair, and I did want your thoughts on them, however…"
Julie smirks. "Well, maybe they're no substitute for my uncles, but there's usually some pretty good ones out there. Smart lady like you could probably do OK to read em, if you don't mind getting your hands dirty. "
On that note, Tessa heads to her car, tugging a bag out from the passenger side. "Here, tell me what you think of these."