@bandaidbites / mickey
"hey, kid."
the greeting came with a lift of two grease-stained fingers, wyatt leaning against the railing overlooking the lower level of the mall. he'd spotted him a minute ago, somewhere between hauling a toolbox across the concourse and getting distracted by a storefront gate that still wasn't sitting quite right on its track. there was always something that needed fixing. always something making a noise it shouldn't be making.
he shifted the toolbox onto the floor beside his boot and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. "got a favor to ask next time you're out scavengin'." the request was delivered casually, as though he were asking him to pass the salt instead of potentially remember some obscure piece of machinery while navigating the end of the world. "don't go outta your way for it," he added quickly, already shaking his head. "but if you happen across an old auto shop, warehouse, somethin' like that..." a pause followed, blue eyes narrowing slightly as he searched his memory. "fleetguard oil filter. white canister. says LF3345 on the side." another beat. then a crooked grin.
"and if that sounds like complete nonsense, don't worry. i wrote it down. i'd really appreciate it."



















