#para : yami belmonte

[madfoley]

closed starter for @losing-faith-in-what-you-made-up​

july. 

there were very few things madison missed about her father. 

still, sometimes there was the pang there - the fact that logan would never learn how to change a tire, or her oil. not that she’d get a car, or need to drive - everything in logan’s life had been narrowed down to a few blocks, and the rest of the world was a temptation she’d never get to see. not for another five years - if any of them lasted that long. 

but there had been afternoons madison had rolled up her own sleeves, the hood above her head, her face smeared in grease as she worked on her piece of junk car back during her college days. ‘why go to a mechanic,’ her father had always preached, ‘when you can fix it yourself!’ the words were usually followed by a racist rant, something his wife and children tuned out over the years, but his lessons had taught madison enough to find herself yearning for the heat of the sun on her legs and the scent of gasoline and oil. 

she knew she couldn’t work on the cars the town had in it’s inventory ( put together for use for all who needed it, but primarily the runners and recruiters, vehicles limited in their escape routes. her own car was there - the beat up old honda who had survived almost twenty years and was now merely a junker for parts in other, nicer cars ) but she could certainly head to the mechanics station, hoping to see a friendly face among them. 

she wasn’t disappointed - yami was there, looking much like madison had herself when she got to tweak with things back in the ‘old days’. she didn’t want to distract her, so she simply waited by the trunk of the car yami was under until the girl appeared, a smile on her face. “hey,” she greeted easily, “i was getting listeless at the house and i had a proposition i wanted to run by you.”