Just another day at the office. {Lance}

[Gemma McCarthy]

Ah, the sweet smell of exhaust in the morning. It was better than coffee, a sugary jelly doughnut and losing ten pounds without exercising.

Now, if only said smokey smell wasn’t coming from the hood of her freaking car. Oh, Mondays. How she hated the beginning of the week.

With a curse, Gemma McCarthy, owner of ‘Mysteries Inc.’ proceeded to lose whatever cool she’d managed to keep in the craziest year of her life. Sitting in the middle of a busy street, cars honking and drivers screaming at her from all directions, she started to smack the duck taped steering wheel in front of her with a roar. Her heap of junk car had decided that NOW was a good time to die on her, but hey, what was some engine failure and road rage? She was already having one helluva bad week as it was.

Thank God that her next stop was to be a garage. Maybe her luck was looking up? No, wait, that was dog crap that she’d just stepped in when she attempted to move her car to the side. Of freaking course.

Managing to enlist the help of a few kids on the sidewalk- and doing her best to ignore the game of grab ass that one of them played as payment- she managed to cart her car and the rest of her gear over to Lance’s Auto Shop. It was quaint and kind of back-country-ish, but it definitely killed two birds with one stone.

She could get her car fixed AND score a partner in deduction! Oh, happy day, she could die content and free with the knowledge that her heap of crap car was going to get upgraded to electrical tape, and a supposed ‘psychic investigator’ was going to help her solve a case that she couldn’t crack.

Ooh, feel the burn. Her ego just did not like the fact that her gift wasn’t working on the missing young man whose parents had contacted her three days ago. Usually, it was farely easy to track down runaways and cheating spouses with her ‘third eye.’ All she had to do was relax, take a deep breath, and unfold her gift like a flower getting ready to blossom. Then wham, bam, thank you Washington, she just knew where the guy/lady in question was hiding out. Easy as pie.

Yet, when she tried looking for Daniel Trask, 27 and due to be married in the next few months, all she could see was darkness. Heavy, oppressive darkness.
Definitely a bad sign, if she’d ever seen one.

“Helloooo!” She called out, once she reached the garage and was abandoned by the Good Samaritan wanna-be’s. “Anyone home? I’ve got a zombie car that needs brains!”

[lance]

Another week had just started and thank God, his demon roommate – it was right to consider her a roommate when she was sharing the space of his brain with him? – had allowed him a decent night of sleep. Oh, she had appeared in his dreams, but she only curled next to him and caressed his hair protectively, what were very surprising to be honest and an example as to why some times Lance actually liked Ravenna.

And that morning he was incredibly hungry and made short work of finishing the coffee and cooking and devouring the couple of eggs he had on the fridge. He’d better stop by the grocery store in the far feature or he didn’t need psychic powers to know he would starve.

And then from the steamy shower and some whimpering from Rave’s part from the fact that he had removed the mirror from there, he slid into a pair of old jeans and a worn down shirt to get to work.

Turning on the radio, he listened to the music and could just feel the demon inside dancing to the rhythm, she was indeed fun to have around at times and a quick peek at the side mirror of the car he was working on showed her dancing next to him and whispering the lyrics in his ear. She was in a good mood that morning and that brought a smile to him.

Ah the smell of grease in the morning, it wasn’t glamorous, but it made things seen normal for a change.

After a few minutes of tinkering with the car’s engine, Lance hear the voice coming from the other side of his shop and popped down the hood as he looked on.

There was a blonde woman standing there and hell, if that wasn’t a big Frankenstein monster she had next to her and the thing was about to be consumed in a cloud of smoke. It seemed that it should be on a junk yard than an auto shop.

“Hello,” he replied as he walked towards her, “It looks like you’re having a bit of a problem with your car.”

Alright, being sarcastic wasn’t the best way to win over a new costumer, but he just couldn’t resist.

[Gemma McCarthy]

Doing her best to blow a piece of sweaty hair out of her eyes, Gemma looked up at the sound of a voice. When the words finally sank into her brain, she couldn’t help but give him a droll, ‘come closer and let me knee you in the balls’ look before leaning heavily on her car.

“No, really? A problem? Nah; I just thought you could use a big ass doorstop.” The words poured out of her mouth, as usual, without the censorship of her common sense. With a wince after a minute, she lowered her forehead to her arm and groaned. Yeah, let’s antagonize the guy who was going to fix her car, AND her current reputation in the PI business. That was a great idea!

Rubbing at her forehead with a sigh, she finally picked her head up and looked at the guy again, an apologetic smile on her face. Dammit, he’d SO deserved it with a quip like that, but she didn’t need her engine to explode ten feet out the garage. Dammit.

“Sorry, sorry. Yeah, I’ve got a problem with my car; it won’t start. Think you can lend me a hand?”

While she spoke, she kept her eyes on him, measuring him up. She hadn’t really found a lot on the guy when she’d googled him; just some articles about the cases he’d worked on, and some of the detectives he’d worked with. When she’d tried fishing for information, the cops had closed ranks, denying the fact that they needed psychics to help them do their jobs. Though…that could have been her fault; turns out that when a girl starts calling a cop a lazy, doughnut sucking, psychic-loving moron when he tries to ask her out, doesn’t bridges make.

Funny, and she’d always thought that people reacted well to her acid tongue. Guys these days and their ridiculously weak skin. Grow some, man…

But anyway, she was there to do a job. How to go into things…was this ‘Lance’ guy the kind of person who would get antsy if she asked him by name? He looked a bit twitchy period, so she decided to tread carefully. Ease him into things by acting like a customer would work to win his trust.

Then again, the person she was looking for had been missing for more than 48 hours, and their father was a state Senator. She didn't exactly have a lot of time to play Miss Nicey Nice. Okay, time to come clean and beg for her freaking LIFE.

"You wouldn't happen to be Lance Matthews, would you?" She asked in the silence that followed her little apology. "I was actually hoping to speak to him for a sec, if he's around."

[lance]

So alright, she didn’t appreciate sarcasm, duly noted. Indeed not a good way to win over a new customer, especially snarky ladies. Lance could tell Ravenna was amused by the woman’s response by the way she giggled. It was an almost contagious laugh, but he decided it would be a bad move to take.

He was about to walk over to her and say he didn’t intend any offense, that he was just trying to break the ice, but he beat him to the punch. Okay, maybe she was just having a bad week, on a Monday…at 9 am.

Using an old cloth to wipe his hands clean before he reached her, his eyes turned towards the car and Lance already knew he would need more than a few minutes to get that heap running again. Jeez, was that thing pieced together with duct tape? Because it surely seemed like. Her vehicle seemed like it needed more a priest for the last rites and a junkyard to be put to rest. But hey, he wasn’t in position to refuse work.

Turning down the radio, he moved towards the Frankenstein monster and opened the hood, making a quick swaying motion to push away the smoke. Yeah, it didn’t look good, and once the smoke dissipated…it looked even worse.

Rolling his eyes, he ignored Ravenna’s comment about inviting the woman for a shower with him to help her fight off the heat or the idea of telling her she would be more comfortable without clothes. As if she had reacted well to a simple sarcastic remark…she would probably slap him for a comment like that. Women…they were so emotional.

Opening his mouth, he was about to speak when she once again beat him to the punch.

So Lance to Lance’s auto-shop been obvious enough, but how the hell she knew of his last name? A frown formed on his features when he turned his head to face her again. And then there was that gut feeling that was telling him to tell her he was just an employee, that her car was beyond help and to tell her she would be better off going to the auto dealership down the road than his garage, what wasn’t much far from the truth…that is, if he couldn’t perform miracles to an engine.

But he REALLY needed the job.

“May I ask what you want with Lance?”

[Gemma McCarthy]

Gemma cringed when the guy moved over to the car and was promptly attacked by smoke monsters. The old clunker was the first car she’d ever bought with her own money, and for some odd reason, she just couldn’t let the poor thing go. Forget the fact that her business was pretty lucrative- when her father wasn’t attempting to ruin her rep by scaring off potential clients- and now, with her new gig as some guy Brom’s new bitch-girl, she’d fight tooth and nail to keep her baby running.

Even if it leaked oil, spat smoke, broke down every five minutes and needed about an hour of freaking out to start. Everyone had their quirks, didn’t they? Yeah, yeah, she wasn’t a psychotic masochist…

Fanning herself with one hand, she let the other rest on her hips as she bit back a sigh. Dammit, why couldn’t life be easy, and the pretty guy all ready to give her the info she needed without questions? Lance Matthews had seemed to drop off the radar when it came to the PI circuit, so common sense told her that he wasn’t a fan of the life anymore. What if she told this mook what she wanted, and ‘ol Lance decided to hightail it out the back door?

But, then again, what other choice did she have? She needed this job if she was going to keep his reputation intact, not to mention that it was the last slap in daddy’s face before she had to go play nursemaid to some weird caveman wanna-be.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead and ask,” She muttered, then swiped a hand across her forehead. “My name’s Gemma McCarthy, and I’m the owner of a private investigations service. I’m looking for Mr. Matthews to help me on a missing persons case. I was told that he was…talented, in that aspect. Could you let him know that I’m around?”

And trip him if he tries to run, she thought with a grumble. Either that, or warn her if he was about to run out with a shotgun to shoot at her butt.

[lance]

Lance turned his gaze back to the engine, away from her so he hoped she wouldn’t be able to read his features if she was to say what he hoped she wouldn’t, but was about to bet she would. Come on, as if he wasn’t tired to be looked as some kind of freak even when he was just a crappy psychic with unreliable ‘gift’. Not to mention people whispering behind his back and oh yeah, the oh so lovely times when the skeptical cops pointed at him and laughed. All that before he was sent to the hospital after almost being killed by a psycho and ending up with a demon stuck inside his brain. Yeah, that was a lot of fun.

Focus into the engine man, it was real, solid, normal…and belonged on a junkyard. Where to begin and what to replace to get that heap running? In a state like this, if he fixed one problem, two other would pop up in this car.

Yeah, that was it…normal. Maybe he had just forgotten to pay something he owed back at Boston and she came to collect? Add to his never ending pile of bills?

But when she spoke, he cringed. Shit, shit, shit! Lance could feel Ravenna doing a happy dance inside his head. It took him a moment to collect himself and figure what to say.

“I’m afraid you have been misinformed miss…McCarthy? Lance deals only with vehicles, if you’re looking for a missing person you should talk with the cops. And as for your car, you better look at the dealership down the road, it would be cheaper and faster.”

He closed the car’s hood…and yes, he was trying to get hid of her. Ravenna tough, she wasn’t happy at all with that and was screaming like a banshee in his head. It caused him to pull his hands up as he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead trying to avoid the amassing headache that was forming.

‘Quit that Rave!’ he cursed mentally.

Not a chance Lancey! I have to be stuck in your head and watch you work on cars all day? Please, don’t tell me is that you want to do for the rest of your life! That you don’t want some excitement!

‘You’re pretty much all the excitement I can get without getting insane. Tell you what Rave, you love this stuff so much why don’t you go into her head and the two of you get what you want?’

You know it doesn’t work that way.

‘Too bad, because that’s the only way you’re getting to go play detective.’

Walk away from the woman, let her go out and go back to the car he was working. Go back to normal life, or as normal as it can be…that is, if he didn’t have a demon screaming her head off inside of his brain.

“DAMMIT RAVE, STOP THAT!”
He lashed out without even noticing, bringing his hand over to his head. It was like a nasty case of a brain freeze she was giving him.

[Gemma McCarthy]

Okay, so this definitely wasn't going as planned. As her car popped, sizzled and wailed under the mechanic's fingers, Gemma's face began to tighten into a very unhappy scowl. Sure, with how her day was going, why not make with the unwilling-to-cooperate psychic. The guy she'd been hired to find had already been missing for a few weeks, and gut instinct told her that any more time spent wherever the hell he was, was going to cost him his life. So, she had a professional problem- nobody went with the tips when she found dead bodies; go figure- and a personal one. All of her life, her 'gift' had been both annoying and helpful. But now, for it not to work, after so many years of batting at 100%?

Bad mojo, man. Really bad mojo. So, excuse her for wanting to bring out some really nice-looking-in-a-tank-top guns.

Now, to get said guns to cooperate. Gah, she was always bad at this part. Could she manage polite? Damn...could she ever?

"You're Mr. Matthews, aren't you?" She asked, though didn't expect a negative. "Can I call you Lance? Thanks. Well, Lance, the guy I'm lookin' for has been missing for almost two weeks. Since you've handled these things before, I'm guessing you know what that means."

She held up one finger as she continued. "One, the guy's really good," She added another finger. "Two, he'd died, or three, the sick mother trucker who took him is harder to find than a flea in a sandbed. And for me, finding people normally ain't very hard."

Shoot, no came the truth or die time. Well, if he really was the psychic that he claimed to be in the past, he wouldn't be phased, right? And, if he gave her the same google eyes that her colleagues did on a regular basis, she'd just kick him in the nuts. Or have her baby attack him with hot oil, or something. The car was Frankenstein-like already...

"Look, I know you're a psychic and do some kind of...uh...vision-thing. I kind of do it, too. I find people, Mr. Matthews; it's my specialty. No matter where they are, or where they're hiding, I can find them...because when I'm holding something of theirs, I can see them in my head. But this guy?" She pulled a photo out of her pocket and showed it to him. Maybe putting a face to the idea would help with the convincing? "I can't see him. I need your help, Lance. His family needs your help."

Yeah, she was so done with the monologues for the next year. Holding out the picture, she waited for his reaction.

[lance]

Binging his hand up, Lance rubbed his forehead as if trying to squish the screaming out of his head. ‘Act normal’ he thought to himself as he struggled to focus. He didn’t leave Boston just so all that crap could start again in a new scenery, no freaking way, the day he’d do that would be the day hell froze over.

Thankfully Ravenna’s wail seemed to die down when the woman started to speak again, either she was out of steam or she just wanted him to hear it. If he was to bet, he would do so in the later. Just great, why couldn’t he just be insane, schizophrenic? Just be hearing voices into his head and be able to go to a doctor, get some pills that would shut up such voice? No, he had to be stuck with a demon in his head, the real deal. And the most messed thing was, there were times that he actually liked her. She wasn’t all bad, not as demons were supposed to be in the Bible, all nasty and evil. Horns, sulfur and malice. No, she was kind, smelled like roses – at least she did in his dreams – and have an overactive libido.

If she didn’t insist to whistle inside his head when she saw a man’s rear or made comments about it, he would like her a whole lot more.

And yeah, looked like he wasn’t about to win the Oscar for best acting. He kept his eyes glued to the engine, not wanting to let her see the expression on his face. Don’t’ listen to what her say at all, better not fall into this trap. Look at the carburetor…man, that alone was a real mess! It had to go…about one year ago. She was still talking, keep looking… the alternator, the booster brake needed repair, the master cylinder was about to give up, the fuel filter and injector were both a mess…

Yeah, that was it, keep his head focused on normality and let the cops to deal with the disappearing acts. As if it wasn’t enough already for him to go to a shady bar and lie to a mobster looking femme fatale… Don’t dare to think that the guy that is missing might be a nice man, someone’s friend, brother, boyfriend, husband, father or whatever. Ignore Ravenna’s giggling inside his head.

Oh darling, you’re such a softie. You don’t even need me screaming in your head to get you to do this. That good natured heart of yours won’t let you get away with not helping someone when you can, and baby, you know we can.

Don’t, don’t fall for that, don’t look at the picture and put a face to the missing guy, don’t look, don’t look…dammit, he was looking at it.

Lance frowned as he glanced at the picture, the face in it was unfamiliar but…his fingers reached out and took the picture on his hand. The moment he did it, Rave was doing her thing, boosting up his psychic abilities and he closed his eyes, tilting his head back in a flash – hello nasty headache again.

In a quick succession he saw streets flashing by, faces…all blurry and unfamiliar. And then there was this sickening feel to his gut, a sudden sense of urgency and danger and a tugging feeling in the back of his head.

Opening his eyes, he let go of the picture and let if fall to the ground as he tried to push away the unsettling emotion that still hovered over him and walked over to the faucet in the corner. Opening it, he pushed his hands under the water, threw the cold water into his face a few times and then all over his hair letting it completely damp before rubbing his neck. It helped to ease his headache as well as the damned heat.

Still silent he walked over to the corner and removed the cover over the car standing there to reveal a black thunderbird mustang. It was his pride and joy and he had been working in it since day one he had come to New Orleans. They weren’t getting anywhere fast in that heap of hers. Lance caught the keys on the counter and turned to Gemma. After a long sigh, he finally spoke.

“If you want to find this guy we better get moving, I don’t think we can afford to sit around and wait long. Heck, he could hear Rave squee in his head.

Lance tossed the keys to Gemma.
“You drive, my head still hurts.”