"Claire, I think I need some help with some repairs on my bike.." Moira started as she walked over to her friend, cringing a little while hiding a small cut on her hand under a rag. It wasn't serious, just a tiny, stinging cut that happened when she wasn't wearing her gloves and had a little slip up. "Can you come see? I'd ask dad to help, but he might fuck it up.." ( hi hello welcome back i missed u )
“I mean Barry does have deft hands for repairs, but only if we’re talking about the inside of a gun,” Claire mused with a smirk.
Turning toward the younger Burton, Claire’s expression softened as she took in the sight of Moira, grubbied from maintenance and clearly frustrated at whatever was plaguing her bike. She knew how it felt – her Heritage softail had recently decided to recently kill its electric starter just as the weather had warmed up, but she loved that bike to pieces despite it getting on in the years and found Moira was the same when it came to her bikes.
Her eyes flicked downward, gazing a the rag being reflexively squeezed to death, and reached for her friend’s hand despite protests to assess the damage. Claire tutted as she dabbed at the small cut with the rag.
“It’s always the littlest ones that hurt the most for some reason. The chains giving you trouble again?”










