fandomtownies | The Arms Hotel, late morning.

He's in the lobby, and he just might be humming Vivaldi's 'Another One Bites the Dust' as he works on a large banner. So far all it says is 'WELCOME'.

Kiki pauses, tucking her hands together behind her back. No, she's not trying to cover her butt.

"Do you need any help?" she offers. "Although, I do have to ask, why don't you just poof it into existence? Or is that power limited to clothes and jewelry?"

[ooc: You know if diminutive Kiki turns anorexic, it's totally going to be Crowley's fault, right?]

"No, I don't need help, pest. I'm trying to decide what it ought to say. Can't poof without a plan, what? Small p on that."

[[ooc: you know, a long time ago Medusa accused him of the nefarious plan of trying to make all the girls of Fandom fat. Hmmm.]]

"I think that applies whether it's a large p or not. Planless poofing - large or small p - would probably just go badly all the way around. So who is it you are welcoming?"

"Conventioneers."

He offers nothing more, but grins and waves his hand over the banner and it suddenly says WELCOME CONVENTIONEERS. Then he turns to her.

"I suppose you're here to ruin my car with this so-called lesson, yes?"

"Just dent it a little. Maybe a scratch or two," Kiki answers, regarding the sign thoughtfully. "It's good that you're getting such business like this. Fandom is such an odd little town I wouldn't think it would be such a place as people would really like to visit or have a convention at."

"They're getting a Hell of a deal." For one moment he looks positively evil...and not in that schnuggly charming way.

Reaching into his pocket he tosses her the keys and strides toward her until he can slip his arm around her shoulder, crushing her to his hip and fairly dragging her along.

"Dent my car and I'll do something truly wicked to you, brat. No innapropriate knickers, not, something truly awful."

The surprised Kiki claps her hands swiftly to catch the keys, and looks back at him with widened eyes. She gives a small squeak as he hoists her along, stumbling for a moment before she can get her feet under her.

"Um, alright," she answers, nervousnous evident in her voice. "Thank you - Mr. Crowley, um." There's a bit of a pause before she finishes, "are you okay? You seem a little...um...I don't know."

"If you don't know then I can't answer, pest. Let's get this over with."

He chuckles all the way down the road to the lot, listening to her feet clatter along.

"Cranky," Kiki finally supplies. "If you were female, I could easily think of a reason for it, demon or not."

She thoughtfully regards the black Bentley as they approach it. "It certainly is a flash bit of vehicle, isn't it," she observes. "And I presume this is where you give me the standard 'wipe your feet, don't muss the leather, I just had it detailed' speech?"

"Mess with my car and I'll jerk that bow clean out of your hair and take your head off your shoulders with it." he threatens..and almost sounds serious.

He drags his fingers along the car and his entire demeanor changes. "I bought her new in 1926. I've kept her going all this time. These bullet hole window clings I got back in the sixties. She's a fine machine and has been with me longer than anyone but the angel. And now she's what I've got...so..." he sniffs and clears his throat, dragging his fingers through his hair, "...wipe your feet, mind the leather, and let's get you driving, pest."

Kiki obeys, scrupulously, and carefully climbs into the vehicle.

"Ok, then," she says, looking down to where he legs are ridiculously too short to reach the pedals. She hunts for a lever to adjust the seat, hoping that cars built in 1926 had such silly little amenities. "What's first?"

He gives her a look like someones pushed a knife through his heart...if he actually had a heart...and waves his hand to bring the seat forward toward the dash.

"First, you take that little silver thing called a key and stick it in that little slot called the ignition."

Patronizing? Sure. What else did she expect?

"Ah, thanks," Kiki says, now that she can reach the pedals. She follows his directions, not batting an eyelash at his condescension. "Key. Ignition. Check."

"I think perhaps it might be easier if this were an automatic, so let's just get that clutch out of the way. When I'm certain you won't strip the gears, I'll let you practice that."

With a small pass of his fingers, one of the pedals disappears, and the stick changes to a gear shift with P,R,N,D.

"Press the brake, turn the key, and she'll start for her. The important thing is...it's like part of you, Kiki. Don't be afraid of her. Turn."

"Thanks," Kiki answers again as the clutch pedal vanishes and she sets her small, red-shoed foot on the brake. "I'd like you to still have a complete transmission when we're done today."

She's clutching the steering wheel a bit harder than necessary. "Don't be afraid of her," she repeats. "It's funny - I have no problem going higher than small planes and half as fast with no seat belt, safety net or harness using just the contents of a janitor's closet, but the notion of staying on the ground and guiding two tons of metal along a road? Scares the peppermint out of me."

Then, curiously, she adds, "Why are cars always female?" She turns the key and is pleased and even faintly surprised when the engine purrs to life.

He snickers and leans back as he lights a cigarette.

"Just relax, pest. She knows what to do. I won't let it get away from you." He takes a deep drag to hide his nervousness at having the little bit behind the wheel.

"Cars are female because they are temperamental. They are beautiful. But mostly they are female because a fellow likes to slide inside them and make them respond to his touch, yesss?"

Predictably, Kiki turns scarlet. You'd think that one of these days, she'd be at last so used to these sorts of remarks that they'd no longer have the ability to make her blush, but no, she's at least still innocent enough for that.

"Creative imagry, as always," Kiki replies, glancing over at him and the cigarette. No point in telling him that those things will kill him one day.

Thankful that she doesn't have to back out of the parking spot, Kiki shifts the car into low gear and lets it inch eeeeeeeever so slowly from between the other vehicles.

His stomach tightens inside and out as he watches the world begin to creep by. Not like he can't fix any damage...but no one but him has ever driven his car and he's beginning to wonder what kind of power this little witch beside him has over him. He grins tightly and never takes his eyes from forward.

"You have had, like, driver's classes, right?"

"Like, no," Kiki answers, as the car rolls along at roughly 2.5 mph. "That's why I asked you to teach me, Mr. Crowley. I don't know anybody else with a car, either."

"Ohbugger." he heaves out in one soft hiss.

"All right then. Stop and let's ~~handwavily~~ go over the parts of the car, what they do, how they work, and all that rot."

Kiki breaks to a stop and puts the car in park in order to devote her attention to Crowley's instruction, nodding with understanding or occasionally repeating a bit for clarity.

"Alright, I think I've got all of that," she nods.

"Right then. Off we go, a bit faster this time."

He blessed under his breath and held on to the door handle as he waited for her to pull out.

"You can take it out on the road if you like. There's rarely traffic to contend with, I'm sure you'll do fine."

The car had a smaller turning radius than she had expected, so the car jerked around the corner a bit as she suddenly corrected for it while turning out of the lot and onto the road. Automatically, she hit the breaks, somewhat harder than necessary

"Sorry..." she murmured, trying not to wince. Kiki began again, letting the car roll forward and feeding a little more gas. On a straight flat road, like the causeway, she relaxed enough to let it hit a surprising 15 mph.

It would be undignified for a demon to shriek like a little girl. It would also be bad form to clutch the handle as if he may die right here and now...which wasn't really a possibility at fifteen miles per hour.

"It's, erm, all right. Pest. Just...pay attention. Now, press a bit harder. Speed is your friend."

"Speed is my friend," Kiki repeated under her breath, but there was a definite hint of a question in her voice. "If you say so..."

Kiki pressed the pedal again, gently at first, and then a little harder. The engine roared to life and the car gave a jump and a lurch, darting forward.

With a muffled "eep!" Kiki yanked her foot off the accelerator, and just managed to strangle the impulse to stomp on the brake again. The car coasted a little, and she carefully let her foot rest back on the gas again. Now that the car was actually moving along at a fair clip, it was much easier to have a feel on how to feed the gas.

He cupped his whole face with his palm, peeking out from between his fingers. This was certainly turning out to be less of a good act than he'd been afraid it might be.

He moved his hand enough to speak.

"All right, pest. Now signal to turn and take a left into the parking lot on that side. We'll do a few circuits until you've got the hang of it. Then I thing we'd best wait for another day to learn reverse."

Kiki's second attempt at a turn went much better than her first, and in short order she got the hang of making left-hand turns around a parking lot. She hoped that right-hand turns wouldn't be much different or more difficult.

She stopped after a little bit and shifted the car into park. "I think you had better handle the parking part," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt to get out.

"I think you're right, brat. But pay attention. I'll even actually drive so you can see."

He picked her up and passed her over his lap, rather than have her walk around. He swapped places with her easily, teeny thing that she was.

"Now see, it's just like this." he said as he slid the car into gear and drove smoothly into the space.

He was so, so, SO much more comfortable behind the wheel of his car. Comfortable enough to give her a charming grin.

"You did quite well for a first go, Kiki. How do you feel?"

"Surprisingly accomplished," Kiki admitted, nodding a little. "And much, much more impressed with people who actually are skillful drivers."

Buttering up Mr. Crowley? Never.

She beamed in response to his praise.

"You should be, snotling. I'm accomplished at many things, but you're my first student. I'm honored you chose me to pop your cherry...so to speak."

He doesn't look over at her, but his grin grows wider at the thought of her blushing. Again. It's becoming like a sport, really.

"Well, you can count 'teaching' among your accomplishments, then, too," Kiki asserted. She looked at him with a curiosity and true innocence.

"Obviously, it's a figure of speech for being a first time for doing something - I figured that much out," Kiki put her head to one side, "but why on earth would anyone want to do that to a piece of fruit?"

"It's not so much fruit, literally, my dear. I don't think you ought to learn about the finer points of this from me. Why don't you ask Phoebe? I'm sure she'd be thrilled to tell you. In detail." he smirked as he killed the engine.

That sort of response raised Kiki's suspicion. She still had no idea what he was talking about, but knowing Mr. Crowley, and with his suggestion that she ask Phoebe about it, surely meant that it was nothing precisely polite.

Kiki's pinking cheeks proved that you don't have to know the exact meaning behind an innuendo or rude phrase to blush from it!

The Arms Hotel, late morning.

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