Little Fever For a Favor

[Tycho Auriville]

The best part about California was the tacos. As far as the scraggly young man in aviator shades could tell, Los Angeles didn't have much going for it despite it's reputation; just another dirty city wrapped up in a rapidly-deteriorating veil of glamor. It's saving grace was the plethora of vendors offering quick comfort food at the right price. Hell, six bucks for two tacos, a side of beans and a cerveza? That was damn near heaven.

It was a particularly divine blessing after a late night of indulgence. Tycho Auriville grimaced as he rolled his tongue around his mouth, trying to shake the fuzzy feeling and sour taste. He'd dragged himself up and out of bed at noon and probably used up half a bottle of Listerine trying to erase the taste of too-much tequila but he might as well have lapped at the scummy toilet water for all the good it had done. Experience dictated the dragging on of last night's jeans and a decently clean Henley before he'd schlepped out of his motel room and down the street to the little truck parked at the corner.

He needed grease. A lot of it.

Ty motioned to the man inside the truck, indicating that he wanted two plates before he dug into his pocket.

"Hey, what kinda currency you take?" He asked, voice gravel-rough and worn. The vendor snorted as he slapped food together.

"What you mean, man?"

"Will this cover it?" He tapped on the dusty paneled truck and held up a gloved hand. Nestled in his palm were an assortment of coins, golden and glimmering in the harsh afternoon sun. The vendor's hand slowed, tongs hovering in the red light of a heating lamp. "They're solid, honest."

His answer was an arched brow that perfectly articulated the are you freaking kidding me? look that the driver offered him before pointedly nodding at the group of tourists behind him. "What'll it be, folks?"

Ty sighed and stepped aside, kicking at one of the tires before he pulled off his glasses and scrubbed the gloved heel of a hand into his eye. "Shit."

[Anna Fernandez]

The van pulled up to the taco stand, the engine rattling as Anna threw it into park and set the brake. Retrieving the keys she hopped out of the vehicle and walked to the lunch line.

It wasn't often she stopped for fast food, but she just had to have some tacos. And after recent events she wasn't too keen on returning home right away after her errands. Time to herself... time to think. Between the police and the press, Redención House was turning into the three ring circus.

She slipped into line behind a mess of tourists, fishing in her bag for her sunglasses.

[Tycho Auriville]

Being on the road lent itself to creativity in the way of survival, particularly when it came to financial hiccups. Tycho wasn't much for the rougher end of things - though he supposed he wasn't opposed to following someone into an alley if times were desperate - but he'd learned how to read people and when push came to shove he could charm his way into a meal or three. It was all about finding the perfect mark - they couldn't be too soft or else they'd ask a whole lot of questions and then you'd end up either looking ungrateful for not answering or shifty for hedging; but they couldn't be all business either because they'd take one look at a pair of twinkling eyes and a soft-shoe grin and holler fraud. There had to be balance: smarts, with just the right amount of sympathy.

And thank the spirits that the tall woman who'd cranked up in a tired-looking van appeared to be just that.

"Hello, Ma'am," Ty pushed off the bumper of the food wagon with a hip and sauntered over to the senorita, hands in his pockets and an honest smile on his face. When he got nearer he let his mouth angle a bit, bled a little sass into his jawline as he studied her from behind the polarized lenses of his shades. "You look like the sort of woman who appreciates a God honest magic trick."

[Anna Fernandez]

"A magic trick?" Anna had put her sunglasses on, and she held her purse firmly between her arm and body. She took a few steps forward as the line moved, and smiled at the young man who'd walked up to her.

"Now, you should know no hay tal cosa como la magia. There's no such thing as magic. But, I will see your trick." The line shuffled forward again, and she added, "If you can do it before I get to the front of the line!"

[Tycho Auriville]

"A cynic, huh?" He winked and shuffled forward with Anna, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, "Or maybe just a realist."

He casually unlaced the braces of his gloves, easing them off one finger at a time and flexing each hand in turn before he stuffed them in the torn back pocket of his trusty 501 blues to flap like hound dog ears. He wasn't a vain man, only practical, and so when he used the tip of a finger to push his glasses up to the crown of his head, hair looping lazily around the frames, Tycho took full advantage of the looks his daddy'd left him (about the only thing the man'd given his son, constant ache of never knowing a father notwithstanding) and fixed his clear ol' blues on Anna like he was about to share some secret joke.

"I tell you what, if I can impress you, you can buy me lunch," A tilt of the head to the vendor, "And if I crash and burn, I'll take a look at that van of yours; know my way around an engine well enough."

Before she could say anything, Ty reached out and gracefully plucked the sunglasses from Anna's face, spinning them into the palm of his opposite hand before reaching behind his back.

"Pretty lady like you shouldn't hide her face," Ty grinned, making idle chitchat as he warmed the plastic frames between his palms, out of sight. It didn't take much concentration anymore, came as easy as breathing did, and Anna didn't have time to protest the unexpected theft before he brought his hands up, twirled the glasses until they were right side up, and replaced them on her face. The delicate frames glinted in the sunlight, newly golden sheen catching the midday rays and reflecting the warmth of the hour.

"Though if you're going to," Tycho cocked his head to the side, appraising, "that's your shade; looks good on you."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna laughed and pulled the sunglasses off her face, inspecting them. "Asombroso hecho, fantastic!" She looked at the hustler penetratingly for a moment, before slipping the gold-framed glasses back on her face.

"Lunch, is it?" She smiled, "Though I would be careful doing el truco de magia in Los Santos. There are many eyes watching for tricks like yours."

They had reached the counter of the lunch truck, and she ordered a Sprite and two beef tacos with extra tomatoes. Anna stepped aside slightly to let the magic trick man order. "You earned it," she said, tapping on the top of the sweaty can of soda that was placed on the counter for her.

[Tycho Auriville]

"M'not much the Kris Angel sort," Ty assured Anna, dropping his own sunglasses back over his aching eyes gratefully and ordering - the same as her own meal, without the tomatoes, and a coke. "Street tricks aren't normally my deal. I reserve 'em for beautiful women."

His lips stretched wide in a cheeky sideways grin as he snagged his soda, pressing the condensation-soaked can against his neck briefly before popping the tab and taking a long gulp.

Their meals were shoved out of the window onto the counter and Tycho tucked his drink into the crook of an arm and picked up both of the paper plates, twisting to face Anna and motioning to a semicircle of beat-up, graffiti-pocked picnic tables nestled a few yards away in the dusty plot.

"You got time to sit?"

[Anna Fernandez]

"No," Anna said after she paid, but she grinned and walked over to the tables with him anyway. They sat across from each other, and she carefully picked up her first taco, diced tomatoes spilling to her plate as she turned her head to take a bite.

"Mmm," she said, eyes closing in mock ecstacy. "Best tacos on the block." Anna wiped her mouth a bit with her hand before reaching for a napkin to complete the job.

[Tycho Auriville]

Tycho grunted his agreement, teeth tearing into one of his tacos as he dropped his ass onto the worn plank bench. Oh god. It was good. The perfect combination of spice and heat, beef juicy and not overcooked into meat-like pellets, the onions crisp and cool in contrast. A drizzle of orange hued grease dripped down his chin and Ty rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, slurped at the oil slicked there. He could feel his headache abating even as his stomach roiled a little at the sudden onslaught. In a huge display of restraint, he set his taco down and took another sip of Coke, let his gut stagger into working order.

"I'm Tycho," Ty wiped a calloused hand on his grubby jeans, held it out across the table. "s'your name as sweet as your face, ma'am?"

[Anna Fernandez]

"Anna," she said. She wiped her hands on another thin napkin, orange grease staining the paper, before reaching over to shake Tycho's hand. Her hand was cold, despite the warmth of the day.

"Usted es un encantador, aren't you?" Anna took another bite of her taco, her lips tweaking up into a smile as she chewed.

[Tycho Auriville]

In reply, Anna got an almost bashful smirk and Ty hitched his shoulders in a lazy shrug. He took a quick pull of Coke, swishing the fizzy sweetness around his mouth and relishing in the clean, stripped feel it left behind.

"What year's your van?" He asked finally, thumbing some escaped beef back into the shell of his taco.

[Anna Fernandez]

She looked sideways at the vehicle, and shrugged, chewing quickly so she could reply. "1983. Its the oldest thing I own," she laughed.

"Not much bueno came out of the eighties, but that hunk of junk keeps running just well enough to make the occasional maintenance worthwhile."