It had been a long week of fighting with random wanna-be racers and greedy bastards with no business putting certain things under their hood. People didn't seem to quite understand just what a sleeper entailed. Having a big ol' tail pipe on the car and enough power under the hood to shatter a window during a drive-by wasn't a great way to avoid the cops tailing you home. Plus, if you were that obvious about it, you might as well just go ahead and let everyone stick their hands out for handcuffs. People just generally frustrated Regan from time to time and her temper often got the best of her before she could think about shutting her mouth. That was just a wonderful problem to have when you worked in the business of fast cars and faster crashes. Some of those crashes could most certainly involve the crashing of her business, something Regan couldn't exactly afford. 

After getting rid of the annoying customers, Regan finally got her own damned car up on the lift. That had been the whole point of coming to the shop on her day off, to work on her own car after noticing she had a rather bald tire on her best drifting side and her brakes all the way around were completely shot. On top of that, after putting her code reader on, the damned thing threw a few codes that had her a little worried. Something about manifold gaskets going bad, something that she really hadn't felt like going through and fixing. As much as she loved to work on cars, sometimes the common ailments annoyed the ever loving crap out of her. The tediousness of it all was something she adored, getting absolutely filthy she adored, the annoying chatter of people who knew nothing grated on her nerves. 

Stepping back from under the lift, Regan wiped her greasy hands on a shop rag before tossing it aside out of the way. There were even smudges of grease on her face from where she had attempted to wipe sweat away and just smeared the grime onto her forehead, nose, cheek. "Son o' a bitch," she growled to herself as she held what was left of her brake pads in her hands, flipping them over a few times. There was practically nothing left to them, they were shaved off down to the metal in spots but thankfully hadn't done any damage. Pulling her t-shirt off, Regan walked around in a tank top since it got pretty hot in the shop with everyone working and the sun beating down on them. With the new set of brake pads in hand, Regan set to putting them on while waiting to catch someone to help her put the tires back on.

This week, Cole made a promise to himself that he would finally sit down and rebuild that cursed VR38 that blew to hell last time he raced the R35. The car just sat in the corner of his garage collecting dust, which no GT-R should be subject to. Predictably, once he tore down the engine and saw the true damage, it was considerably worse than what he had hoped for. The heads were pretty much destroyed, pistons were scuffed, and two of the rods were bent. Well, that's what he got for building the motor with "cheap" parts the first time.

Cole's black R8 parked behind a strip of garages and parts stores. He picked up his order of forged internals from a supplier he went through for years, and noticed the scene in a neighboring garage on his way out. A car with it's brake calipers disassembled and a greasy female underneath. Additionally, one of the wheels presumably from the car made a slow roll towards the garage door, if he had a dime for every time that happened to him...He set his boxes of goodies down to the side in the garage bay and whisked over to the grab the rolling wheel, pushing it back towards the car. For a second he almost thought he recognized the girl as that hot shot driver who has been just about undefeated in recent races. "Little hot out to be pulling a brake job, don't ya think?" The blonde said in his own flat humorous tone as he set the culprit wheel down by the car. Hell, he was sweating and he wasn't even doing anything.

Her head was absorbed into getting all of this crap fixed and done with before it got even hotter. The large fan she had turned on wasn't doing much more than blowing hot air around the shop. Sweaty hands did nothing more than make it harder to settle calipers into place since your fingers slipped off everything. Sighing, Regan was about to start working the new brakes in when a voice surprised her a bit. She whipped around to look at the blonde whom she recognized from racing at night and she had seen him a few times around the garages. Although, what he was doing in her garage was a mystery to her until she saw the tire. "T'anks fer grabbin' me rogue tiyah," she smiled a bit while sliding the brakes into place for a moment. 

It was a little hot to be doing a brake job but there was no choice there. "Well, considerin' Ahm down ter tha me'al in spots, Ah nee'ed ter do me brakes," she shook her head and picked up one of the old brake pads that was practically bare and held it out to him. "An' Ah 'afta check mah manifold gaske's, apparen'ly they're not workin' ter well eithah. Ser i's boun' to only ge' 'otter fer me." The tiny Irishwoman picked up a fresh shop towel to wipe her hands on, wiping her face and getting some of the grease off. After a moment, she took a deep breath and nodded to him. "Tha names Regan, Ah've seen yer aroun'. Yer were in mah race tha othah nigh' on fifth avenue," she leaned on a tire and crossed her arms over her chest. [/blcokquote]

To say he wasn't expecting the accent was an understatement, especially since he had heard nothing before to compare it to. British? No, too much twang. He made a note to ask later. Foreigners getting involved in the L.A street racing scene always intrigued him since there was never any mixture of cultures where he was from.

"Sure thing." He replied with a grin. "I've had tires roll out of my garage before too many times." He added with a brief chuckle.
He hardly even had to take a look at the beat to hell brake bad she handed him before he could tell how used up it was. It looked like a pad pulled out of a race car after a 24 hour endurance race. "Whoa, you take no prisoners in braking zones." He grinned with a nod. "That's how ya do it right there." He added in his upbeat tone. "Someone needs to get a swamp cooler in here then." He took a look at the hardly useful fan. It was a bit of a makeshift garage but hey, he admired the people that did more with less a lot more than the people that did a lot with more.

He raised a brow when she said she saw him around. So it was the girl he could've sworn it was. He'd been meaning to introduce himself as he did with anyone that caught his eye. Guess fate took care of that for him. "Yeah I thought it was you." He nodded. "I was jus' watching, been awhile since I've actually raced. I've seen you a couple times though, you got talent for sure." He gave a nod of approval. "I'm Cole, its a pleasure." He added the quick formality with a smile as he inspected the 370z on the rack for himself, out of habit more than anything.

"Ah've chased a few mahself," she laughed a bit while resting on one of the others. "An' losin' t'ese tiyahs an' rims will pu' me ou' a pre'y penny tha' Ah don' wanna spend." Her head swayed a bit as she shook it at the thought of having to buy a new set of rims. She already had to put new tires on the damned car thanks to drifting a little too hard in the last race. The 370Z was her baby so it had the best of everything, and nothing was too expensive to fix it.

"Nah, t'at's from driftin' an' all in tha las' race. An' from a practice run Ah did tha othah day. Hence tha bal' tiyahs ter," she nodded again while stretching her short body with a sigh. He wasn't kidding about swapping out some cooler air in the shop since it was only bound to get hotter. Hell, Regan's homeland was always a little chilly with frequent rain so heat never settled with her very well. "Ah wish i' woul' cool off. Mah AC a' home is on full force. Dunner 'ow much longah Ah can take i' all."

At least he did recognize her because it would have been a little awkward for her to say she knew who he was but he didn't know who she was. She smiled a bit which turned into more of a smirk, "Well fanks. Nice ter know someone t'inks Ah go' talent." Re glanced over her shoulder at her car, a little bit of a cocky smirk still on her lips as she raised an eyebrow. "Pre'y isn't she? Pu' more money inta 'er than me home." It had come down to the custom paint job and the blue-tinted headlamps and reverse lights. Even the flame setup she had installed was blue, and the undercarriage light was blue. Regan kinda liked the color blue.

The mention of drifting reminded Cole of the fact that drifting was probably the one activity he could do without having to worry about anyone tracking him. Cole was not known as a drifter, so going to drift meets over race meets would probably be safe, no one would look for him there. "Jack of all trades, eh?" He said, knocking himself out of his thought tangent. She was yet another example to him at how mastering the drift made you a better all around driver. It made sense though, drifting is the pinnacle of car control.

"They say it's suppose' to be hotter tomorrow, might wanna hang inside." He said with a grin. "Car stuff comes before personal comfort stuff though, every racer's motto." Was he ever familiar with that phrase, not that really applied to him anymore though.

Just from what he could see of the Z, it was certainly evident that this wasn't an overnight slap-job. The undercarriage was polished and a full header-back exhaust showed itself off. Some high dollar racing coilovers and thick anti-roll cars persuaded that this car was not all about the straights either. He figured that chances were the motor sitting under the hood had some internal love as well. "Very pre'y." He smiled as he took a playful crack at a little imitation. "All this done by you?" He asked figuring he probably already knew the answer.

Once he'd gotten an eyeful of the Z, his eyes turned back to her. "Curious, where you from anyway?" He had to ask as he leaned against the lift with arms folded. "Don't think you're a local." He added with a laugh.

Drifting was a favorite of Regan's, she had gotten more into drifting before she got into flat racing. It was weird how much more in tune to her car she was thanks to drifting and when it came to street racing, she was able to make better turns because of it. Hell, it had become one of her trademarks to catch people on the inside of a turn and take over a race. Of course, there were a select few drivers she hadn't beaten...yet. "Well, Ah go' inter driftin' firs', an' then Ah fell in lurve wif fla' racin'," her head bobbed a bit in the form of a nod as she spoke, eyes watching a few people walk by the garage.

The promise of hotter weather made her sigh almost in exasperation since she was so tired of the heat. Although, she did move here for the racing scene and she was bound to get used to it at some point in her life. "Well, 'opefully Ah ge' all mah shet done ternigh' ser Ah don' 'afta be ou'side." It was next to impossible for Regan to not go outside considering her dog needed to go out and she preferred to be outside. "Maybe i'll be a day ta swim." Her eyes turned to the Z at his question, a light smirk lifting her lips. "Ah had some help," she pat the back bumper softly. "Mos'ly Ah had 'elp wif tha engine cause look a' mah size...Ahm tiny."

She laughed a bit while shrugging, "Ah may be frum aroun' 'ere ya jus' derner," she teased a bit. It was kind of obvious she wasn't a Miami native, from the accent to her pale skin that never seemed to tan very well. "Ahm from Irelan', moved 'ere ta tha states when Ah was abou' eight an' me Da was back and fort' for awhile."

"Oh yeah? I've known a few guys like that, the drifters got an edge up on everyone when they race straight up." His old Japanesse friend and "teammate" came to mind, then his fiery death came to mind as well. He was one of the best Cole had every seen at drifting, and as a result, was fierce competition for anyone who challenged him when he came to L.A. He missed Manako, he never really moved on from his death. He always wondered if there was anyway, or anything he could've done differently, so he could have just maybe pulled him out of that car before the NOS tank blew.

On to happier thoughts...

The blonde let a brief laugh escape when she mentioned her size. She had a point as she was a solid foot shorter than him. "Ahh being small just means you get underneath the dash a lot easier than me, along with other conveniences." He said with a comical bit in his voice. Seriously though, there were days he wished he was 5'10 instead of 6'2...it'd create a more comfortable driving position for one.

The late afternoon glow outside hinted that the day's end wasn't far away, and so Cole figured he'd make the difference he could in getting that Z done tonight. "If I can be of assistance on here, I got nothing better to do." He said with a quick shrug as he looked at the undercarriage of the Z once more, what was the other a issue she mentioned? A manifold gasket gone bad? Yeah that was it. Hopefully it was a simple vacuum leak triggering the code.

Cole's eyebrow perked a bit when she said Ireland...Of all places, Ireland would certainly be in the bottom few of countries that he would expect a well-rounded and aggressive racer to come out. The stereotype he always thought of with the Irish is that they were always too drunk to get anywhere near a car in the first place. "Wow, this musta' been a culture shock for you then." He mused. In his head, the places couldn't have been much different, but he really wouldn't know anyway. "You're dad and family still come around or are you just the loner doing ya thing out here?"

"Well, driftin' gives ya a be'ah chance cause ya learn how ter turn be'ah," she nodded slowly while messing with the brake pads a bit more. When she had first learned how to drift, it wasn't entirely a pretty sight. There had been a lot of moments of her spinning out, messing up, swinging too wide, not grabbing her e-brake in time, along with other silly mistakes that were typical for rookies. Now, though, if she ever made a mistake it wasn't a big one, at least not one that could cost her the race or her life. Drifting was a weird talent that Regan felt every racer should have, but others felt that drifting was 'below' them, that their talents were good enough to win anything.

Sighing, she looked up when he mentioned about being small, a smile lifting her lips a bit. "Ahhh, t'at's true. Ah can ge' undah tha 'ood be'ah an' such," she nodded while settling the caliper in place. Her fingers were getting a little too slippery between the sweat and the grease, so she grabbed her towel and tried to wipe them off. "Yah, Ah coul' use some 'elp. Ahm defini'ly gonna need help wif remoun'in' tha tiyahs." Regan could easily do the tires herself, but she wasn't going to turn down any help, that was for sure.

"Cult'ah shock is a bi' of an undahsta'emen'." she sighed, cracking her fingers and wrists before going about settling all of the new brake pads and calipers in place. "Ah was use' ta lai' back, spoile' rich bra' life in Irelan' wif priva'e tutahs an' such an' then herah, Ah go' thrown inter a school. T'at took ferevah ter adjus' ta." Taking a deep breath, she set to checking a bunch of things in her under-carriage to make sure everything was tight and set correctly. Something to keep her mind on while she explained her situation a bit. "Well, me Da's in jail an' Ah don' talk ter him. Me family basically disowne' me bu' my....non-blood family still talks ter me an' all. Ah still 'ave t'em," she nodded while grabbing a wrench to tighten a few bolts.

"Alrighty." He said simply and started setting the wheels on the hub of the calipers she had already done. Gracefully, there wasn't a ton of brake dust on them like he may have expected. He then set about finding all the lug nuts and starting them on the studs.

"That almost sounds like me, minus the country change." Cole commented with a developed grin. Though he never really appreciated it at the time, his family was very successful and he pretty much had anything he wanted...that was until the accident. It may have been five years ago but sometimes it still felt like it was yesterday. "Except I never finished high school, hated it too much." On a different note he added. "I couldn't imagine trying to adapt to a place like this coming from the countryside on the other side of the world. Musta been tough." He said with a quick nod while he looked for an impact wrench for the lugs. "I bet it still is tough."

Soon enough, he found the impact wrench and torqued down the lugs as she was going through an inspection on the drivetrain. "Sorry 'bout your dad. Sometimes non-blood is closer than blood." He said as he went to the other side of the car and got to work on those lugs. "And ya know, that's not always a bad thing." He added with a smile, wouldn't he know.

Regans fingers worked the brakes into place while brushing any brake dust off so everything was nice and tight. Taking a deep breath, she listened to Cole while lifting the back tire into place and hand screwing the lugs into place so Cole could just tighten them on. "No' tha' hard. A' least Ah didn't think ser," she shook her head with a sigh. "It was morah adjustin' ta not bein' homeschooled and shet." Regan had been a spoiled little brat and that was putting it kindly. Everything her little fingers pointed at was given to her, and in Ireland, when she didn't want to go to school she was switched to home-schooling. Her dad hadn't been so nice here in the states and had made his daughter go to a pricey private school instead.

"Ah finished high school in a public school. Ah 'ated this priva'e school me Da was sendin' me ter so me Ma sen' me ta public school when mah Da was ovah in Ireland." she sighed, rubbing her shoulder when she tweaked it a bit setting a tire on. The rims had been a little heavy for her when she first got them, but the tires were what made them heavy. "My Da can ro' in 'ell fer tha rest of his life for all Ah care," she sighed and shook her head. "Bastahd deserves ta die. Ah'll stick with my non-blood family." Regan always got a little heated about her father. Hell, she had walked in on him after he had murdered her mother so she had every right to be pissed at her father. He had ripped her family apart, more so than what his stupid career choice had been.

"I'm just happy I don't have to worry about school anymore. Homeschooled or not, it still sucks" The blonde shrugged with a quick laugh. The thought that he had absolutely no education beyond what he knew from the streets crossed his mind, god forbid he'd ever have to look for work someday, a monkey would be as qualified as him in most applications. Not that he wasn't smart, cause he was, but in today's world, credentials were everything. "Whatever the case, now that you're here I'd say you've adjusted well in the end."

Cole went around the car and put a final tightening on all the lugs. She certainly picked the right combos for this car, the rims set off the fender flares and the color nicely...still a little too much chrome for him though. "Damn, he is you're dad ya know." He said in reaction to the rather harsh comment. Honestly though, he could probably piece together that there were likely some things that went down between Regan and him for her to end up out here and him in jail. Cole actually had a considerable respect for his parents, but then he should, as they weren't royal fuck-ups like so many "parents" seemed to be these days. Hell, he had a good relationship with them until their death.

OOC: Sorry this took me forever...

ADjusted well was an understatement at the least. The girl had become a part of an underground culture that wasn't even really in existence back home in Ireland, hell she was even beginning to dominate a little bit. She had taken skills that most would have brushed off as teenage adrenaline with a dash of lead foot and honed them into what made her a champion. Well, and she had adjusted to the American lifestyle compared to an Irish one. She gave Cole a shrug and a slight nod, "Yeah, can't really complain." A light smirk crossed her features as she shifted the tire until the rim sat correctly and she started to set the nuts into place. "America is weird compared to Ireland but…it's not so bad." She offered a shrug before moving around to the other side.

Everyone said that. Everyone would say 'he is your dad after all' and she'd call them out on their bullshit. "No, he's not. A father would have been there, a father wouldn't have killed people. A father wouldn't have been so…absent," she shook her head, accidentally tightening the nut a little too much and sighing as it stripped. "Fuck." Pulling it off, she tossed it off to the side and placed a new one on with a sigh. "Trust me. If your Dad had done what mine did, you'd hate him too," she nodded while moving around to finish the last tire and begin to drop the lift. IT was all over her face how annoyed she was about the subject of their chit chat, something that wasn't all that normal for Regan. Usually her emotions were hidden but when it came to her wife-murdering Daddy, it was impossible to hide her feelings.

Just her demeanor about her dad told him that it was no light-hearted matter with her. He suddenly felt fortunate to have the childhood he had when others obviously weren't so lucky. "Fair enough." Cole surrendered. Her dad almost sounded like his old mob boss. An unemotional, uncaring murderer. But, who was he to jump to conclusions.

Cole subconsciously watched the lift ease its way down and figured now was a good time to change the subject, and maybe get back to his problems back home. He pulled out some ripped paper and a pen he conveniently carried on him and scribbled some brief directions and an address. "I know you said you're more of a drifter, but there's a pretty large group of racers that meet almost every night there." He extended the paper towards her. "It's a new location cause the old one got hit on by the 5-0. There's a lot of good racing there and some pretty big stakes. I don't remember seeing this car ever there so I figured you should know about it if ya don't already." That place had it's dangers about racing there because of all the mob money that circled around there, but in his opinion it was worth the risk...besides, the mob was pretty much under water anyway...right?

Regan fell quiet now, fuming over her memories of her father as she let the lift drop slowly. As the tires pressed into the ground, she was glad to see everything was tight and set just right so her car didn't collapse. That was always an odd fear of hers after fixing something on her cars since she had seen a few people forget to put a bolt in place and their cars collapsed in some way. At least she was rather conscious about what she took off of her cars enough that she knew what had to go back into place.

Cole's voice made her snap out of her own little world of loathing her father. He was saying something about plain street racing, somewhere to meet up and maybe make some good cash. She reached out for the paper, looking it over briefly before nodding a bit. "Lord knows I could use some racing," she breathed with a nod, looking up at him. "You haven't. I don't usually flat race but…I'll give it a shot." She offered him a smile along with another nod, tucking the paper into her pocket for safe keeping. "Will I see you there tonight?"

"Like I said, drifters make some really good racers as well. There's some tough competition out there, but there's also some pretty deep pockets with some massive egos." A bit of a smirk crossed his features. "Just don't run against any of the black Mercedes' ya see out there. Those guys are bad news." He knew that group as a small rival gang to Stephano's organization. They were actually fine with Cole because he had a hand in dismantling Stephano's operation. But either way, he didn't want to touch them with a 10 foot pole, no matter how much money they threw up. God forbid he'd be approached by one of them to drive for them. He'd been there and done that.

"I can't seem to stay away, I'll probably be around." He said with a quick smile and turned to walk out the massive garage door. "The party usually starts getting rowdy around 11, I'd be there at 10 if you want a good spot." He called out over his shoulder.

"I'll kick their Mercedes asses," she scoffed but mentally kept that note. He did know the scene after all and who to mess with and who not to mess with. Although, she did have connections still that she could use to her advantage if need be and she made a mistake that wasn't necessarily easy to get out of on her own. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her door open and looked over at Cole once the car roared to life.

"Mmm, I'll see you a little before that," she called after him with a smirk and dropped into her car, backing it out of the garage. In a quick few minutes, she had cleaned up the garage and was getting ready to head home for a shower.

"It's not that you can't beat them, its that you don't wanna beat them. They don't take kindly to those who take their money." Cole said as a last word before he got into his Audi, figuring she'd understand what he was getting at. Sometimes he himself wondered if there was a little more complicated story about the underground mob in racing than what meets the eye. Never did he imagine gangsters even bothering with street racing, but now they were here, and he'll be damned if they didn't make a drastic impact on the scene.

Now to finish that R35 for tonight...