Brake Fade

Glencoe Park

Glencoe Park isn't the largest in the area, but it's still fairly sizable. The grass is in a perpetually well-trimmed state, shining a healthy green year round. Near the southern entrance to the park is a playground cluster filled with swings, a merry-go-round, seesaws, huge forts, and a jungle-gym. Not too far from the playground are fields for both rugby and softball, enclosed by wire fences so that children don't run haphazardly onto the fields. Further into the park is a walking path through a small forested area.

Somewhere nearby, but not IN the park itself is a sudden commotion. The squealing of tires can be heard, followed by a rather loud collision. After a few minutes, Mischa emerges from his old 80s model Toyota, bleeding a bit from the head — and sporting a sizable cut on his arm. The front end is trashed considering it's got a tree embedded in it, and the windshield is kaput. All things considered, the fact that Mischa is conscious is commendable. He lets out a groan as he crawls out of the car and surveys the area. "Stray dog…" He mutters to no one in particular, reaching up to take his glasses off. The man's glasses have managed to remain intact, though he leaves them off for the moment, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with some exasperation. He hasn't yet noticed the fact that his arm is gushing or that there's a bit of blood seeping out of his hairline. "Public transport for a while, it would seem."

Surprisingly enough, Scarlett is in the park. She's got her reasons, but collecting certain plants under the moonlight might have something to do with it. The very second she hears the commotion, she starts running toward it. Forget that she doesn't know what it is until she gets there, but when she spots the tree, and then the driver crawling out of the car, she's already got her cellular phone out. "Ohmygod, are you alright?" Obviously he's not alright, he was just in an accident. "Here, sit down and let me take a look at that until the paramedics get here." She's busily pressing buttons on the phone while ushering him over to the grass to sit down.

Cutting through the park on the way from point A to point B, Mellie's pace quickens at the sounds of a commotion, though she doesn't exactly come a-runnin'. Instead, it's at a brisk pace that she emerges from the other side of the park in true onlooker form. Eyebrows arch as she takes in the sight of the meeting between car and tree, grimacing just a bit. Her attention soon moves over to the injured and the help already on the scene. "What the hell happened?" she inquires, drifting over towards where Mischa is being ushered aside. "You okay? Better than your car, it looks like."

"It's alright, I'm fine." Mischa protests somewhat grumpily. He seems mostly put out that he's going to have to ride the bus, up until he reaches to run his fingers through his hair and comes away with a spot of blood. "Ow. Alright, maybe I'm not fine." He squints a bit at both Mellie and Scarlett before giving each of them a slight smile, moving to sit down on the tail end of his car. "There was a stray dog. It just came out of nowhere. It startled me and I accelerated a bit too much when I swerved, that's all." There's no dog around here, it must have run off. But there's evidence of Mischa's crash and burn all over the street — the tire marks leading right up into the grass, where the car now sits against the tree. He turns the lights out and takes the keys out of the ignition, pocketing them. "Something tells me it's going to be cheaper to buy a new car in the end," he mutters to both of the women.

"Iiiii… don't know much about cars, but that one looks pretty totaled," Scarlett remarks. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of cloth. It's clean, at least, and not a handkerchief, it's actually just a piece of cotton. She dabs gently at the wound on Mischa's head, trying to see if there's any glass embedded in it. "Hey," she says to Mellie, tossing her the cell phone, "Tell them we're at Glencoe Park please?" Then she looks back at the man. "I think you missed it, I don't see it anywhere. I'm surprised you survived that, really." She's perhaps a bit nervous, her eyes flicking to the accident and then to him. "I'd give you something for the pain, but I think the paramedics would kill me if I did. As is, they'll probably yell that I'm trying to see the extent of your damage…"

"Yeah, I think the tree won this round," Mellie remarks, giving a more scrutinizing look at the site of the crash, her own gaze then scanning the area for the sign of any hit dog. Turning back with a shrug, she catches the phone when it's tossed to her. An eyebrow arches as though she's pondering arguing that instruction just to be contrary, but opts to let it go in the end, punching in a few buttons on the cell and bringing it up to her ear. "Everyone knows the best stuff for pain isn't exactly doctor approved," she adds with a smirk, before the operator picks up on the other end, pulling her attention back to the phone. She starts giving a somewhat hazy recollection of the events, though at least the important details are covered.

Jamal comes jogging down the street. Not exactly an ambulance-chaser, still, you never know who you might be able to help or at least gawk at.

Mischa winces a bit as Scarlett dabs at his forehead with the piece of clean cotton. He gives her an appreciative smile, looking towards the car. "Survived it? I think you may be overreacting a bit — but…yeah, I'm pretty happy too." Despite the fact that his arm is probably going to need stitches, things could have certainly turned out a lot worse. When Mellie mentions the best remedies not being doctor approved, he turns a faint shade of red that nicely matches the blood soaking through his shirt. "I'm not in any pain, really." Which is a big ol' bold-faced lie. As Jamal sprints up, Mischa gives him a pained smile. "Jamal, if I remember correctly. No need to panic, it's all under control thanks to these two ladies."

"Knowing my luck, I would have flown into the tree," Scarlett says simply. Satisfied that there's no glaring chunk of glass in his head, she gives a look to the arm. "Stitches, maybe. I'm no doctor, and I've not really got anything that will help, but…" She takes the somewhat bloodied cotton cloth, and tries to wrap it around the arm wound, as tightly as possible without hurting him. "At least this will staunch the blood flow until the ambulance gets here." She looks over her shoulder at Mellie, "They are coming, right?"

Unable to answer verbally since she's busy dealing with the operator now, Millie simply arches an eyebrow at Mischa's lie, seeming just a little amused at that shade of red he's gone. Hopefully it's actually just a blush and not some weird reaction to all the trauma. Jamal gets a glance as she flips the phone shut, a brief nod a greeting to him, before her attention goes back to Scarlett. "Yeah, yeah. They're coming," she replies, stepping nearer to offer the phone back. And in the process, she takes a closer look at Mischa's injuries. "Guess you'll live then," is offered with just a faint grin.

Jamal's eyes go big and wide. "P'fessah! Oh, my goo'ness, how in de world did dis happen? Oh wow. Geez." He gives the two women a pained sort of anxious smile. "Hi. I'm Jamal. I on'y met him de otha day. Night." Pause. "I. Um. Geez. You got anyfing in de car dat you gonna need? I cain get it fo' you. If you leave it deah when de ambulance come, somebody sho' gonna come along and steal it."

As Scarlett wraps Mischa's arm, he smiles in thanks once more. Save for the small gash in his head and the laceration on his arm, there's no more collateral damage. At least to his body. "It might take a while. It's a Friday night in Dallas, you know. Some idiot who swerved to miss a dog isn't high priority." Mischa smiles at Mellie and gives a slight shrug of one of his shoulders. "This time, anyhow. Thank you both for helping." When Jamal calls Mischa 'professor', he can't help but give a quick, soft laugh. "Not a professor, just a librarian. Please…just call me Mischa. And there's nothing valuable in the car." He eyes the car dubiously for a moment. It's debatable whether or not the car is worth anything anymore, given the vapor coming out of the front end.

Scarlett doesn't move right away. Under the guise of examining the man, she slips a small charm into his pocket to protect him from further harm. "They'll be here soon enough. It's not really all that late for anything big to have been happening, I don't think, and well, are you sure you're alright? I mean, you don't have to be brave for me. I've got brothers." Two, in fact. One who likes to get into trouble. While the accident is probably something she's not used to, seeing injuries is old hat to her. "Do you have an insurance company? We can call them for you too, and at least get them out to look at the car or whatever."

"Nice to meet ya, Jamal," Millie replies offhandedly, not too into the whole fussing thing, so her attention is easily divided between this and that. "Don't worry about it. I told them to hurry." She may have also played up the severity of the accident a bit, but hey, it was for a good purpose? Her eyebrows arch at the mention of Mischa's profession. "Pleasure to meet you too, Mischa," she adds, her tone just a little flat, like she can't decide whether she's being sarcastic or not. "I'm Mellie, since we're doing introductions." Another glance is spared for the vehicle. "Yeah, just hope the tree doesn't sue."

Jamal goes over to inspect the car. And the tree. And the dripping fluid falling to the cement under the car. He squats down to study it, then reaches in touches a drop of it on a fingertip. When he stands up, he says, "I hope dey send a fire truck, because I fink dis thing is leaking gasoline."

Mischa doesn't notice Scarlett slip the amulet into his pocket. He raises his hand in a bit of a dismissive motion, smiling at Scarlett. "Perfectly fine." The blaring of ambulance sirens can be heard in the distance. Mischa looks down at his arm and raises a brow as the blood starts to soak the bandages. "Must have hit it on a shard of broken glass when the window broke." As Mellie says her name, Mischa turns towards her and dips his head in acknowledgment. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. I just wish it were in more pleasant circumstances." There's a brief chuckle at the quip about the tree suing. When Jamal pronounces that he thinks the car is leaking gasoline, Mischa stands up from perch he's taken on the back of the car and starts to walk away as fast as he can without wobbling. "I think it best if we all move away from the car, then. No need to make the EMTs do more than their share of work."

"Scarlett Fontane, and if you're able to get up please do so…" She offers her arm out, but Mischa is already up and walking away. She gives him an odd look as though wondering how, after all this, he's able to walk, and chalks it up to shock. Being the mother hen that she is, she motions for Jamal to get away from the vehicle and goes to collect her phone from Mellie, before rushing forward to direct Mischa to a nearby bench.

"Sure. I'm not looking to get blown up. There are far better ways to go." So saying, Mellie is already moving away from the car, giving it a dubious and wary look. Not her idea of a dramatic exit, that's for sure. There's a shrug as to the unpleasant circumstances. "Less pleasant for you than me. And you're bleeding kind of a lot. You know that, right?" Mischa's bloody bandage gets a quick look, as the girl tries to be helpful? "How big an explosion do cars make, anyway?" She's not actually sure what a safe distance might be, having only seen the in the movies. She takes another few steps, just to be on the safe side.

Jamal says, "Well sometimes, dey don't. Sometimes dey jess catch fiah an burn. It ain't always de big kaboom." Why exactly he knows this, he doesn't say. "But dey burn real, real hot. All de plastic an rubber burn too."

"Fontane… I know that name," Mischa says absent-mindedly at this point. Mischa takes hold of Scarlett's arm and walks with her, looking over the horizon for bright lights. "Yeah, I just realized that. Thank you." Mischa says to Mellie, looking downward at his arm again before he turns a bit pasty. He sticks a little closer to Scarlett at this point, sniffing at the night air. "Hmm. I don't smell the gas…much." When he hears Jamal's answer though, he picks up the pace a bit.

"Here, the bench. Lay back and relax." Scarlett figures it's far enough away, and that they can all duck behind it if necessary. "You guys too! Hurry up, over here!" Unless they plan on taking off, in which case, she doesn't really blame them at all. "Yeah," she says with a bit of distaste. "My brother's a bit of a big-wig or whatever. Real politico." Eyeroll. "Be that as it may, you," she says sternly to Mischa, "need to sit still until the paramedics come. And the rest of us need to get away from the car - I really hope you have nothing important in it - in case it blows."

Mellie drifts another step closer to the bench, then two, though she does it slowly enough to pretend she's doing it of her own volition and not because Scarlett told her to. It's an important distinction. "Sure thing," she replies with a nod to Mischa's thanks. Her gaze drifts back to the car, watching it with a bit of interest now that she's far enough away to be safe from the fallout. She's never seen one go up before, after all. "Sounds like you've witnessed a few go up in your time," she remarks to Jamal.

Jamal says, "Yeah, he already said he ain't got nuffin in deah. Gonna hope it true." He trots over by the bench, but of course doesn't sit, because that spot is for Mischa. "Oh, well, you know. In some 'hoods, it some kind of sport, burn cars. An always a few get burnt up in Mardi Gras, you know? People jess party a little too hard."

The sirens draw closer until the ambulance is pulling around the corner. Mischa sits down on the bench that Scarlett leads him to, nodding at her. "That's where I've heard it. Yes, the Fontane family. Isn't there something else though…?" He's conscious, but not exactly coherent at the moment — which given the blood loss is understandable. He listens to Mellie's question to Jamal, quirking a brow curiously. "There's nothing in the car, scout's honor. The police can sift through it, frankly…" If there's going to be anything left to sift through, provided there's actually a gas leak. The paramedics start to shuffle out and move towards the scene of the accident.

"Think you may have hit your head a little hard there," Scarlett says with a look. "My brother is on the news a lot," she says to the benefit of the others. "Over here," she calls to the paramedics. Another look is given to Mellie, and then to Jamal. "Well I'd really not like to witness this one going up, and since this man probably shouldn't be alone, I'm going to ride to the hospital with him until we can notify some family or something…" She's taking charge of things, but only because someone has to. A look is returned to Mischa at that, "Unless anyone objects, of course."

"Sounds pretty crazy," Mellie remarks to Jamal, though not as though this is necessarily a bad thing. No, it sounds a little interesting, really, though not exactly her brand of crazy scene. She can just respect partying hard beyond the edge of control. As the paramedics show up, she takes another step back, nodding to Scarlett. "Yeah, this isn't really my thing." Besides, the cops might yet show up, and she has a knack for finding trouble which doesn't mix well with that. "Feel better or whatever," is offered to Mischa.

Jamal says, "Yeah. Man, I hope you gonna be okay." He reaches into a pocket of his hoodie and brings out a piece of paper and a pencil. HE writes a number on it and offers it to Mischa. "Dis my phone numbah, if I can do anyfing fo' you. I mean, I know I probly cain't do much, but I do what I cain do.""

"I don't object, and thank you. Please, just call me Mischa. 'This man' sounds a little foreboding…or something." Mischa reaches up to rub his forehead, brushing away some dried blood. "Thank you, Mellie." Mischa says, waving to the young woman. The paramedics start to lead Mischa and Scarlett into the back of the ambulance as Jamal offers up his phone number. The man takes it and looks it over, squinting through his glasses before he pockets it and nods to Jamal. "Thanks. And if you ever need anything, come see me at the library! It's the big one. Dallas Public. Ask for Chloe if I'm not there!" With that, Mischa's drug off to the back of the ambulance.

Scarlett gives her information to the paramedics, tells them what she saw of the accident, and allows herself to be ushered into the ambulance. "Thank you both so much for your help. I will definitely call you, Jamal, and let you know how he is after they check him out." She sends a look to the departing girl and smiles, "Thanks for making the call, Mellie!"

Mellie is already on her way off, tossing off a backhanded wave to the calls of thanks. It's only the mention of a certain name that gets her to pause, spinning back on her heel to look back at the group. God, she really just can't get away from her these days. But she makes no comment, just turning back to start heading off again, her pace brisker now, her expression perhaps dangerously thoughtful.

Jamal calls "Fanks, miss!" He backs away, glances down the street, watches Mellie go. The ambulance gets ready to pull away with Mischa and Scarlett, and that leaves just him. He gives the car another glance. It's not burning yet. He moves away, on down the street, away from potentially-flammable vehicles, from broken glass, and yet with new acquaintances in exchange.

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