( the telltale gleam of recently washed pink metal against the far wall of the garage is a good sign that kimberly's rolled up on her own in the last day or so, but they're moving and getting into his car before she can point it out. and it's not really that big of a deal either way, anyway, so it's not something she feels the need to harp on.

she's just happy he's not staring at her like an alien with three heads for her outburst, and that the small cosmetics bag she'd tucked in a drawer in the bathroom had helped to mitigate the telltale red splotches across her cheeks. no need to roll into the house of pancakes looking like a wannabe circus clown. )

My schedule's pretty open today, actually. If you want, you can just drop me off at the Garage.

( she'll just ask robbie to bring her back when he's ready to take a break for lunch... or when she forces him to actually take said break, more likely. )

Might be? What kind of dog?

( clearly, the aforementioned mechanic had not mentioned it. shame on him. )