𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇 || ʜᴀᴡᴋꜱ

1➟ In which an angry dude breaks my new card machine.

"Fixed up the brakes, and replaced the battery, she's good to go," I slapped the car and gave the most showman-like smile I could muster, knowing full well that the man in front of me would not like the bill I was about to give him for the repairs we'd done.

"How long will the battery last?"

"Well, depending on how often you use the car, it should last for about three to five years."

"Tch," the man grumbled, "Kinda thought it would last longer than that."

"Like I said, it depends on how often you use it, honestly," I added, looking to appease him with a rather obvious money-saving life hack, "if you take care of its it should last a few more years."

He groaned, "Yeah, yeah, okay. How much?"

"62250¥, sir."

He pulled a face, "62250¥? You've gotta be kidding me."

"Yeah, I know, shocker," I waved my hands, "But that includes manual labour and the cost of replacements."

"Manual labour my ass! I could've just found a video online and fixed it myself!"

I resisted the urge to look at an imaginary camera in a cheap allusion to the Office, "Yeah, but you didn't. So let's not get all feisty and just pay so I can get on with my life and you can get on with yours, okay hun?"

The man mumbled under his breath and pulled out his wallet, handing me his card so I could get paid and he could get the hell out of here.

"Alright, just put your pin in please." I gestured to the machine and waited, staring into the garage and watching as Kaneko lugged a toolbox over to a red Volvo P1800 someone had brought in the other day.

He was a rather burly man- picture a typical blacksmith in some period drama and voila! There you go. Though, despite his outward appearance and scarlet deep voice, he was an angel. He even baked! You name it, he'd bake it; strudels, scones, even apple pandowdy. Kaneko was a 5-star Michelin chef in my eyes.

I flipped the card reader back to me and groaned as I saw the word 'declined' flash across the screen.

"Your card's been declined."

The man stared at me as if I'd just killed his cat, "Bullshit!"

"Nope," I turned the reader back to him, "See? declined. Do you have any other-"

"Try the card again."

"Okay, look, one: I don't appreciate you interrupting me, two: I highly doubt trying the card again is going to work."

He shook his head, of which was slowly turning red, "I don't care what you think- try the card again!"

I sighed and reset the machine so that he could enter his pin again, not looking for any arguments, "Okay sir, enter your pin please."

The familiar beeps of the reader played in my ears and I flipped it back around, unsurprised to see the 'processing' screen change to that of the previous 'declined' one. I decided to vocalise it for him, just in case he read as badly as he regulated his emotions.

"Declined."

This situation has happened many times before and pretty much every time, everyone was civil and either called their bank or produced another form of payment. What hadn't happened yet, was someone ripping the card machine off of it's arm and smashing it onto the floor.

But today was full of surprises.

"Oh come on man!" I groaned, "Cindy was brand new!" I was referring to the hunk of metal and wires, that used to be a card machine, that was now in pieces on the ground.