Kit had to squint for a moment before realizing the coffee in his hands was her order, laughing a little in spite of herself as she quickly nodded, reaching at the cup with both hands. “You’re an angel!” Her fingers wrapped the paper cup, humming giddily at its warmth and aroma. “Oof, yeah, the WiFi here sucks, but these blueberry muffins are worth all the pain! Besides, I carry this hotspot everywhere. My editor would kill me if I were to use bad WiFi as an excuse.” Kit let out a playful shudder at the thought, taking a sip from the coffee. “You should really consider waiting, though. Tips are you and you’ve earned yourself at least 25% right now. Life saver!”
x
“Oh, not at all. Just a coffee gremlin or something.” Michael laughed, although having said this joke aloud, he suddenly felt as though it were better suited for older folks’ social media pages. He shook his head. “Just didn’t want it to get cold. I know I’d want someone to save my coffee.” With that, he gave a serious nod as she spoke. “A hotspot, huh? I don’t think I could ever. I like still being able to go into rooms where there’s no signal, so when people call me, I can just not answer and say ‘oh, it’s a bad signal in here. Sorry.’“ He laughed genuinely, eyes crinkling up with warmth. “Ah, I was just talking to someone about that actually. I need to work on my marketable skills. Before we know it, we’ll just have little microchips in her head that tell us the time by the minute, and then no one will need some stuffy 30-something clockmaker anyway. So, waiting tables is moving to the top of the ‘future jobs list.’ Absolutely.” He raised his brow. “But whatever you’re working on must have been pretty groundbreaking, so I’m sure you’re safe. In this economy, right? That’s just a thing people say. I don’t actually know what that means.”
“30? I think my senior class at high school had more than that. But I’m not going to lie, clocks, hair and jewelry courses sound a lot more fun than most of the courses I had to take at Harvard. I don’t think I ever knew you took diamond setting and engraving, you just keep getting more interesting.” Dani chuckled, though her eyes were wide and bright as she mentally marked off the new info she’d learned. A soft laugh escaped her as she shook her head. “Listen I think people who can fix those sort of things are cool. Honestly I need to get one of those standing desks too, especially at the office. I’m pretty sure my 8 cups of coffee a day are the only reason my back doesn’t hurt from sitting a good portion of the day.” She tipped her mug towards him with a smirk. “Just let me know and I’ll get you set up. That way I can bug you even more often than now.” The words came out teasing, Dani sipping her hot beverage. “That’s fascinating, I had no idea that that method existed for those things. Clearly I need to get my nose out of my law books and start brushing up on other facts.” His next words had her laughing, black hair shifting out of place as she shook her head. “Cramp my style? Have you seen me? You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Plus…I may or may not have a Kawasaki motorcycle in storage, that would be fun to take for a spin too.” Dani leaned forward in her chair a bit, humming to herself. “I’d be happy to pay the fee, but do I get you as my tour guide of sorts? Or is that extra?” She grinned. Frankly she liked the museum he was at, there was something peaceful about it that she enjoyed when she could swing by.
“My uncle so far is the only person I’ve met who can make them sound decent at best, I’ve tried before but I haven’t ever been successful. I love buying them though.” Setting her mug down, she smiled at him. “You just took me back to my childhood right there. I honest to goodness miss those games. My brothers and I, when I go back home, have tournaments on the xbox, but I miss the old game cabinets.” Dani couldn’t help but laugh at the description of the clock. “Miss Piggy and Hawkeye maybe? If I remember correctly his colors are purple and black too.” She chuckled, before a slightly higher laugh escaped her. “Might I just say you look amazing for 100…but if you’re that old I have to be in my 70’s at least. But see that bowtie is hip with the steampunk trend going around. And if I live to see the day that those three gents make a comeback, I can die happy.” A shrug lifted her shoulders as she lifted her mug to her lips. “Rock, pop, folk, hard rock…I love any of it…including your weird synth pop.”
x
“Yes, well, I’m sure Harvard’s nothing to scoff at either. It’s a good school, Dani. Should I tell you my brother went to Yale? I’m sure my folks wish I did too,” Michael laughed, raising his brow. “I don’t know a ton about football, but I hear you all don’t like each other. Either way, Harvard has a collection of Historic Scientific Instruments. That’s more my speed. I read they had Joseph Pope’s orrery on display. He was a clockmaker in Boston, and it took him 12 years to build it. Can you believe that? Sure beats bracelets in any case.”
Smiling, Michael offered a soft nod, taking his cup in his hands. “I’m sure you know lots of cool people. Important people with, you know, big important jobs,” he mused, rolling his eyes in mock self-deprecation. “But personally, I recommend pacing. It’s how I get my best ideas. And most of my exercise. Just don’t do it in magnifying glasses; you’ll crash into things.”
He laughed at that, genuinely, and largely at his own expense. “But I don’t know the first thing about law books. Too much Latin, personally. Tempus fugit is where I start and end. In any case, though, anyone who has a motorcycle in storage, well-kept enough to need to be taken out, certainly should worry about having her style cramped. That’s, like, something a teenager in a greaser movie does.” He threw up a pair of Fonzie hands as if to punctuate his point and laughed again. “I mean, I’m usually in the back where no one can find me. I like it there. One time my boss at the antique shop had to run an errand, and I had to ring someone out. Can you imagine? She started asking me about taking care of taxidermy. What do I know about that? And she was buying a tea set, so I don’t know what it had to do with anything.”
“It’s hard, though. Those little ridges on the roller? If even one is slightly bent, you get a sour note,” he sighed, taking another sip and placing his cup down on the table now, empty. “I spent a lot of time in the arcade growing up. He says, surprising no one. But the new ones are too fast-paced; I panic and throw the controller when I lose.” He wrinkled up his nose, mirth tugging at his eyes. “That’s right! He did wear purple and black. I never thought of that one. Huntress too. Hmm. I’m going to have to turn in my comic nerd card.” At that, though, Michael matched her laugh with another one of his own. “Is steampunk going around? No one told me. I get to wear little goggles outside, and nobody can say anything?” He hummed. “You know, my dad was sort of, like, weirdly into Celine Dion. Not to knock Celine Dion or anything. But if we were being loud, he’d play her at top volume to shut us up. I think maybe we thought the Titanic would come or something. Freaked us right out.”
A soft laugh escaped her as she shrugged. “I rather admire what you do, your extensive knowledge. My Uncle fixed clocks and tinkered as a hobby, his workshop always made me feel like I’d stepped into an elf’s workshop.” Dani laughed again, waving her finger at Michael. “Well if you ever learn to file, I’m sure we could use that skill in the DA’s office.” The woman propped her chin up on her fist as she listened intently, sipping her coffee from time to time as Michael answered her question. She found it fascinating for some reason, nodding along as he continued. “Liquid fuel? And we wonder how the generations before us survived with no air bags, good gracious.” She let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “I don’t believe I’ve ever showed you my car, I’ll have to drive it over sometime. Wait…” Dani leaned forward a little. “Really? Michael that’s great! Ok if I can’t touch, can ya promise me I’ll at the very least be able to see it sometime?” She asked, flashing puppy dog eyes his way for some umf…before her pleading expression melted into a soft smile. “Isn’t that just sad? To be honest, I was that kid that was more excited over getting a music box than the Gameboy.” Dani remarked, chuckle muffled by her mug. “Woa really? That is pretty far back, but I agree, some modernization is alright. ‘86?” She grinned humorously, head tilting. “Do you still have it? And I agree completely. I love the sound of vinyl, nothing can really compare, you know?” The question drew a soft snort from Dani, a playful smirk playing on her lips. “I love how I’m only a couple of years younger than you, and you assume I know. I’m mostly 80’s music and back with some 90’s sprinkled in, so I’m not entirely the best person to ask. But I’m guessing it’s highly unlikely they’re listening to the Rat Pack.” She joked.
x
“Extensive? No. Niche, though. Do you know there were less then 30 students in my graduating class? And some of them were in cosmetology. Can you believe that? That’s what my college taught; clocks and hair. Well, jewelry too. I got to do some diamond setting and engraving,” he laughed. “Your uncle sounds like a good man. We humble fixers. Elf workshop, though. I can picture it. I think my house probably looks like that too. Terrible. I should pack it up and get, I don’t know, what do people get? Maybe a standing desk.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if to dismiss himself. “I might take you up on that, though,” he laughed. “I mean, they were hardcore, yeah. They could explode. Dangerous. The liquid burners were outlawed eventually in most places; they use solid fuel these days. It’s safer.” He shrugged his shoulders before offering a nod. “I’d like to see it, but no promises I won’t cramp your style. I don’t exactly scream Mustang, do I?” He gestured vaguely at himself, donned in his typical casual clothing, stained and dotted with forgotten bits of oil and paint. “I mean, sure. It’s just a reasonable admission fee, and you can look at it all you want,” Michael laughed. “Or I’ll sneak you in. But it’s still a big maybe. It’s from a private collection, and if they can arrange the acquisition...well, maybe someone would actually come visit every once in a while, hm?” He was very fond of the little museum in which his career had begun, but the crowds were certainly not beating down their doors to see the clocks.
“Music boxes. Now there’s one machine I am no good at. Sure, I can make it crank, but sound good? No,” he shook his head. “Gameboys are okay, though. I like video games too. One day I’ll have a proper arcade cabinet. I don’t know. Pong maybe. Mortal Kombat.” He grinned. “I do actually! It’s in my bedroom, and it’s purple and black and looks like maybe Miss Piggy threw it out,” he sighed, balancing his chin in his hand. “But I’m basically 100. I have a bowtie with little gears on it, and sometimes I wear it in public. But you’re probably right. Things go in circles anyway. The Rat Pack’ll come back around sooner or later. And in any case, 80′s can mean a lot of different things. Like, are we talking hard rock, or...you know, my weird synth pop clock?”
Kit was just finishing editing a story she had to send on a deadline as she waited for her coffee. She had been so focused redacting that she had completely missed the many times her name was called by the barista or when someone approached her table with said drink. Before she even looked up, not wanting to forget her line, she lifted one hand with her index finger up, smiling with relief as she hit that send button. “There. Done. Sent. Sorry. I’m sorry. How can I help?”
x
“Did you want this, or...? I’ve gotten a lot of coffee shop misspellings, but never this one.” Michael offered a smile, holding her cup and making something of a show of eyeing the name scribbled on it through his spectacles. “I’ve never been a waiter before either, but look at that. I think I’m pretty good.” This came as a good-natured joke, and he laughed genuinely, extending the coffee over. “Whatever you’re working on looks pretty important. But the wi-fi at the one the next block over is better. Pro tip. This one cuts out. Might mean the difference between saving the world and not.”
“Well I mean it, genuinely. Honestly I really wish that I had some sort of knowledge that I could offer you, but my mechanical knowledge goes as far as my car. Really? That’s interesting, do you think it’s because a lot of them haven’t lasted this long?” The more they talked about Michael’s work, the more Dani found herself becoming intrigued by it. The only mechanical thing she worked on was her car, so to hear everything that her friend fixed impressed her. And of course, his ability to hold an interesting conversation was an incredible bonus as well. It was one of many on a slowly growing list of things that she liked about him. “Exactly, especially since that Mustang is essentially my baby at this point. It’s a labor of love and I don’t want to lose the heart of it.” Dani nodded with a smile, happy that she was able to grasp what he was talking about. “It’s true, everything from everyday household items to buildings. Over in places like Europe they add on to their original structures, here? We just tear them down to build the next big thing. It’s sad that our version of progress tends to ruin old things that are still working. Why fix it if it isn’t broken, right?” She smirked at his laugh, a soft chuckle escaping her at the sound. “Oh? Is that right? Well I’ll try, but I can’t promise that thought process will take hold right away.” She joked, using her now free hand to grasp her mug. Sipping her coffee, she watched as he checked it, taking it back and putting it away once he was done. “That’s true, my go to before this lil guy was always a wrist watch. But now I can’t seem to go anywhere without this one.” A laugh escaped her before she shook her head. “I’m sorry but when you say analog face all I can think of is dial up computers, eight track tapes, and floppy disks. And records because I adore my turn table.”
x
“Well, it’s a fair deal. Most people live their whole lives without ever needing my knowledge. Dying trade and all; I’ll have to learn to file or something,” he laughed, but even this self-deprecation seemed to be in good humor. “Uh, well, a lot of the manufactures were European. That’s not to say there aren’t any American-made models. I think there’s still a workshop in Pennsylvania. But this one took a long trip ‘cross the Atlantic. And they heat up; that’s what makes them move. So poor care can really corrode everything. Plus, the real old ones were powered by liquid fuel. Not really a kids’ toy. Collectors mostly these days.” He explained this all cheerily, evidently fascinated by each little bit. “I completely understand. I haven’t driven in years, but I might get to work on a real automaton at the museum. That’ll be my baby. No one is going to be allowed to touch it.” He laughed, shaking his head. “That’s just right. We’re not going to have anything to leave our progeny. What? Here’s my granddad’s iPhone? Disappointing.” He gave this as if he were delivering a quip, taking another sip of coffee. “Nothing wrong with wristwatches either, though. You know, there are some clockmakers who only deal in old-school models; no quartz or batteries. That’s excessive even for me. Some modernization is okay, I guess. My very first clock was actually from 1986, and looks it.” He laughed again. “So don’t knock any of those. Vinyl’s back. Shouldn’t have ever left. What are the kids listening to these days, anyway?”
Dani had to admit that getting coffee and such with Michael was a nice change in pace during her typically packed and busy weeks. Him talking about his work, and really anything, was interesting enough to get her mind off of her own job that often times took up most of her mind than anything else. The woman sipped cautiously at her steaming hot coffee, which surprisingly enough for her was only her first cup of the day. “I see where you’re coming from, the best part of getting it repaired is keeping the authenticity of it. But c’mon, if anyone can figure out a way around it I’m sure you can.” She offered with a soft smirk. She meant it sincerely, hearing his stories or current projects made her believe he really could fix anything, and keep the heart of it. “I’m the same way with my Mustang, I try my best to keep everything about it as authentic as possible. Even if it’s temperamental at best some days.” She laughed softly. “Michael I’m starting to believe you only like to see me because of that watch,” She teased playfully, but slipped her hand into her bag to distribute the pocket watch in her hand. “It’s been working great thanks to you, frankly I like it better than a wrist watch.”
x
“You’re really too kind. I’ve worked a lot of miracles, but I don’t know about this one. Steam engines are finicky. And they’re dangerous if you mess it up. It could scald someone. I don’t see a lot of them, to be honest.” He replied with a small smile, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders. He really did appreciate Dani’s faith in him, though, and he appreciated this sort of quiet, casual hangout. Something as simple as friendly conversation and coffee was often enough to clear some the fog from his cluttered mind and refocus him again on the tasks ahead. “It’s the same thing. Someone told you to rip out everything, you’d go to a different mechanic, right? You wanna keep all you can,” he added, grinning that she understood. “We’re so wasteful, as a society, I mean. Things these days, they’re designed to last a few years and break. It didn’t used to be like that. Stuff was built to hang on for generations.” He hummed softly before breaking into a laugh. “You shouldn’t think of that way. You should think of it as concierge service. Handy-dandy repairman on-call,” he rebutted. Taking it in-hand, he brought it up to his ear, nodding very seriously as he listened to its steady tick before returning it gingerly to its owner. “Most people just use their phones, huh? How many people can still read an analog face anyway? I tell you, you’re ever lost in the woods without a charger, you can at least count on this guy to tell you how long you’ve been walking.”
Today had been the first day off in what felt like forever. She wasn’t entirely sure what to even do with her day. “I mean, I could have laid in bed all day, but I’m used to waking up at 5 am so of course guess who’s up at 5 am. It’s me. I am. So here I am, cleaning the kitchen, go down for some breakfast from this Greek place across the street, and now here I am trying to decide on what I want to do while I’m downtown. Is it weird if I wander one of those touristy things by myself?”
x
“Well, I certainly don’t think so. That’s such a city person thing to do, never going any of the touristy places. My little sister, she lives in New York, not once has she been to the big M&M store. Which is just a waste if you ask me.” Looking up, Michael flashed a smile, offering a nod of his head. The air was growing chillier, and he seemed to roll his shoulders, tugging his jacket more closely to his frame. “I know the feeling, though. Sometimes I just can’t sit still. I feel like I ought to be doing something. At least you got some cleaning done. I really hate dusting. The drive to do never goes in that direction.” Which was, of course, problematic for an apartment so cluttered with things “But why not? Snap a photo with The Bean. Take a river tour.”
Closed starter for @adadanispencer
Location: Coffee Shop
Time: Late Morning
For over a week now, Michael had been hunched in his backroom doing battle with a mechanized toy boat. And this ship-shaped cloud hung heavy over him, even now, as he tried, like a proper friend, to settle into a more sociable routine. But even with small talk, his thoughts lay clearly in one clear locale. “I don’t know if I have the heart to tell him just yet. I have a few more things I can try. But I think the only way it’ll sail again is if I replace all the bits inside. And that just sort of ruins it, you know?” With a small sigh, he brought his cup to his mouth and took a small sip. The heat from the coffee seemed to fog up his glasses, and wrinkling up his nose, Michael tugged them from his face and began to wipe at them with his shirt. “It’s a discerning thing. You can make it all like brand new, sure, but then you’re taking away what makes it special.” He clicked his tongue. “But tell me. You know I’m gonna ask. How’s the watch? Still ticking. Not running too slow, is it?”
A middle child, Michael Malhotra was born in the suburban town of Summit, NJ. His father was an architect, his mother a gynecologist, and in general, his childhood was marked by warmth. The one aspect that could perhaps overpower its balmier bits, however, was his older brother’s shadow. Athletic, popular, and academically gifted, the eldest child of the Malhotra family tended to outshine the smaller and more reserved Michael, who largely preferred to spend his own time in the arcade or poking his way through comic books in the local shop. And while he did not do badly in school, he found himself bored too easily by theory and memorization and tended to excel at more concrete subjects: art, certain science labs, and computers.
He also had something of a knack for model building for an early age. His parents gifted him a train set one year, and he and his father bonded over constructing, piece by piece, new buildings to line the tracks. That said, between all the gluing, Michael himself preferred tugging open the engines to see what made the vehicles chug. He once successfully hid a locomotive he had broken in his bedroom for four months.
The first clock came when he was about eleven-years-old. A neighbor had placed it out for a yard sale, and the big purple and obsidian thing, a remnant of the past decade’s contemporary décor, did not actually function. But at one time it had been expensive, luxurious even, and fascinated by it, Michael spent too much allowance to take it home and pull it apart. His parents were not thrilled with this decision, but still, his insistence on on ‘making it work again’ at least earned it pride of place on his bedroom wall, where it, for nearly a year, hung functionless.
From time to time, Michael would take an unsuccessful go at its inner machinations, which rallied stubbornly against him. It did not tick, and it did not chime. Finally, defeated, he lugged the thing into the local clock shop. He could, of course, not actually afford to have it looked at.
Still, the clockmaker himself was a family friend, a frequent fixer of both his father’s and his mother’s watches, and so, a deal could happen. Michael would work for him, sweep up, tend shop, for a small salary, and with his “employee discount,” maybe he could have the clock looked at.
And thus, Michael spent his teenage years learning his trade. Over time, he would spend more time in the workshop itself, and at sixteen-years-old, he and his employer even enjoyed some news coverage for repairing the town clock “in time for the holidays.” The purple and obsidian yard sale timepiece itself did eventually tick again too and found its way back to Michael’s bedroom wall, where it has hung in every place he has lived since.
But while this garish thing might have gotten Michael started, he nevertheless found his own skillset blossoming in more delicate work. His hands were steady enough to handle the most fragile antiques, and his sensitivity toward restoration, preserving each piece’s integrity, earned him his boss’s recommendation to an old friend, a curator outside of Chicago with a museum specializing in timepieces, glass, and steam.
As a young man, Michael thus moved to Illinois to apprentice under him. After a year or two, he moved to Quincy to attend Gem City College’s school of horology, where he perfected his craft (in a class of less than thirty peers). And finally, upon completing his education, he returned to the museum itself as a full-time employee, specializing in timepiece restoration but also assisting with other mechanical work, including barometers, steam engines, automated toys, and the like.
Michael has since taken employment with a relatively successful Chicago antique shop. He works there now and has for four years, doing repairs, prepping pieces for display, and handling restoration orders. He maintains his relationship with the museum on a freelance consulting basis and comes on for more complex projects as they arise.
possible connections
Michael is open to all plots: friends, acquaintances, romantic interests, and more. The below are just some initial suggestions.
The Confidante: Michael has been in Illinois since at least his early twenties. Michael knows this person well from around town, and they appreciate his more introverted personality and are happy to connect over some quiet time.
The Playmate: Michael is a collector. He spends his money on toys, games, comic books, odd antiques, and other things he can find that tickle his interest. He maintains a small train setup to this day. This person is perhaps fascinated by his eccentric apartment, and Michael appreciates having someone else who appreciates what he does.
The Customer: Michael is very sentimental about objects. Your muse has a broken clock, toy, or mechanical oddity, and he is here to make it work perfectly and restore it to just how they remember.
The Reveler: If Michael had his way, he would spend all his time hunched over his workshop bench. This person has the ability to tug him into the outside world and get him social and interacting. He’s in his 30s, after all, not his 60s.
