- Messages
- 202
- OOC First Name
- Kris
- Blood Status
- Half Blood
- Relationship Status
- Single
- Sexual Orientation
- Bisexual
- Age
- 05/2033 (25)
The garage was hot, even with the door open. Frankie had managed to rig it open with bungie chords when the stupid mechanism broke a last year and no amount of poking at it with his wand would fix it. He sighed, surveying the carnage that was the engine of the bike he was fixing up. Every time he thought he had the magic part sorted out, something mechanic failed. And by the time he sorted that out, the enchantment had gone haywire and Frankie was ready to just toss the whole thing.
Frankie had gotten the hunk of junk bike for dirt cheap a few years ago and had been slowly but surely putting it together whenever he had spare time. His mother definitely didn't approve of it, but as long as it kept him out of trouble and he didn't bring engine grease into the house she generally looked the other way. Frankie wished he didn't try her patience so much sometimes, but it seemed these days it was just in his nature. Today had been a slog and Frankie felt like he was getting no where. Frustrated, he dragged a hand through his hair, grimacing at the feeling of grease sticking his hair up at odd angles before dropping his wrench with a clatter, muttering out a string of curses in Portuguese. His mother hated when he swore in the house, but would usually let it slide more if it wasn't in English. The clatter of the wrench echoed down the street but Frankie paid it no mind, dropping moodily onto a nearby box and staring, eyebrows furrowed at his stupid, cheap bike.
Frankie had gotten the hunk of junk bike for dirt cheap a few years ago and had been slowly but surely putting it together whenever he had spare time. His mother definitely didn't approve of it, but as long as it kept him out of trouble and he didn't bring engine grease into the house she generally looked the other way. Frankie wished he didn't try her patience so much sometimes, but it seemed these days it was just in his nature. Today had been a slog and Frankie felt like he was getting no where. Frustrated, he dragged a hand through his hair, grimacing at the feeling of grease sticking his hair up at odd angles before dropping his wrench with a clatter, muttering out a string of curses in Portuguese. His mother hated when he swore in the house, but would usually let it slide more if it wasn't in English. The clatter of the wrench echoed down the street but Frankie paid it no mind, dropping moodily onto a nearby box and staring, eyebrows furrowed at his stupid, cheap bike.