Garrison Kane (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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xp_logs2024-09-02 12:08 pm
xp_dominion) wrote in xp_logs2024-09-02 12:08 pm
Entry tags:
Dixie Dead Shake - Log 2
The first car of Felicia, Jessica, Jean and Kane is underway.
They had started earlier than most of them wanted, but departing the mansion had happened on time for their 24 hour drive to New Orleans. Kane had stuck with his Crown Victoria, but Amanda had swapped her Broomstick for a roomier sedan from the garage. They hit the highway and fell into the flow of a long drive.
Kane started out at the wheel, but after two hours, he swapped with Jean at a gas station, looking exhausted from the minimal effort. After letting the wolf stretch his legs and pee, they were back on the highway, Kane relegated to swapping out cds that earned him sideways looks from Felicia. The wolf had settled between them, mostly on the unconscious Jessica's lap.
"We're about to cross into Tennessee," Jean said, nodding to the welcome sign. The change in scenery, and plant life, was interesting to note along the way.
"We could probably stop where they make Jack Daniels but I think the other car would kill us."
"That's not a way to dissuade me," Felicia said, voice low, as she idly scritched at the wolf's ears. His head was in her lap, haunches heavily sprawled across the seats, but with a leg stretched delicately into the foot well against Jessica's boot. "Except I'm probably driving next and I save DUI evasion for special occasions."
Jessica cracked an eye open, surveyed the situation, and slumped further back into the seats, dragging a hand across her face. An attempt to dislodge the wolf was met with stolid indifference. "I'm not topping last night with a Jack Daniels tour," she muttered.
"We can save that for the way back," Jean mused with a laugh. After a moment, she turned on the radio. "Any song requests?"
"We're coming into Tennessee where almost all radio stations are defacto Country stations. And not good country, with twangy guitars and talking about sharecroppers and prisoners and poor people, but the Country about trucks and beer and how American it is to hate immigrants." Kane said, partially dozing in the front seat. "Felicia should pick because it will be funny to blame each song on her."
"First of all, you know that won't work. Either I'll find the all girls of summer 2024 channel or I'll blow up your radio," Felicia replied idly, shifting just enough that she kneed Garrison in small of his back through the seat.
"Second. You didn't make a playlist? Really? The most gen X boombox on the street under her window person to ever exist is going on a two day trip and you didn't..."
There was a pause, a consideration. Felicia looked at the wolf and nodded, something decided, a lesser evil. "Try eighty-eight point one."
Jean smirked at the back and forth banter before the radio shifted to the music station on its own and a peppy Christian rock song blasted across all the speakers.
She squinted. "Uh...."
"Ha, you found a-" Kane barked a laugh and started to retort but the radio suddenly was consumed with static and 'God's Not Dead' was suddenly replaced with Collective Soul's 'Shine'. He shut his mouth quickly. "-forgot she's a goddamn witch." He muttered, settling back in his seat.
Jessica sighed. "All of this music is against my religion. This thing doesn't even have Bluetooth?"
Felicia, who had recoiled at being referred to by the magical persuasion, settled for another light kick as she settled in closer to Jess, patting her own shoulder in offer. "Nah, but it has a roomy back seat and a cute driver. I'll try to get some Garbage in the next hour, radio and I are acquaintances compared to Spotify friends."
"Next time we're taking the modern vehicle," Jean said. She put her finger against Garrison's protesting lips. "Tut tut. The ladies have spoken."
"I-" The retort started with the fact this car was a staple of law enforcement. In the 90s. It was a hardbodied vehicle designed with an oversized engine to match custom mods. In the 90s. That it could run through any car head to head. In the 90s.
"I just like the Hip." He muttered to himself.
"We know, dear," Jean mused, ruffling his hair. "Now let's get to New Orleans before Jessica rips the roof off and makes this a convertible."
They had started earlier than most of them wanted, but departing the mansion had happened on time for their 24 hour drive to New Orleans. Kane had stuck with his Crown Victoria, but Amanda had swapped her Broomstick for a roomier sedan from the garage. They hit the highway and fell into the flow of a long drive.
Kane started out at the wheel, but after two hours, he swapped with Jean at a gas station, looking exhausted from the minimal effort. After letting the wolf stretch his legs and pee, they were back on the highway, Kane relegated to swapping out cds that earned him sideways looks from Felicia. The wolf had settled between them, mostly on the unconscious Jessica's lap.
"We're about to cross into Tennessee," Jean said, nodding to the welcome sign. The change in scenery, and plant life, was interesting to note along the way.
"We could probably stop where they make Jack Daniels but I think the other car would kill us."
"That's not a way to dissuade me," Felicia said, voice low, as she idly scritched at the wolf's ears. His head was in her lap, haunches heavily sprawled across the seats, but with a leg stretched delicately into the foot well against Jessica's boot. "Except I'm probably driving next and I save DUI evasion for special occasions."
Jessica cracked an eye open, surveyed the situation, and slumped further back into the seats, dragging a hand across her face. An attempt to dislodge the wolf was met with stolid indifference. "I'm not topping last night with a Jack Daniels tour," she muttered.
"We can save that for the way back," Jean mused with a laugh. After a moment, she turned on the radio. "Any song requests?"
"We're coming into Tennessee where almost all radio stations are defacto Country stations. And not good country, with twangy guitars and talking about sharecroppers and prisoners and poor people, but the Country about trucks and beer and how American it is to hate immigrants." Kane said, partially dozing in the front seat. "Felicia should pick because it will be funny to blame each song on her."
"First of all, you know that won't work. Either I'll find the all girls of summer 2024 channel or I'll blow up your radio," Felicia replied idly, shifting just enough that she kneed Garrison in small of his back through the seat.
"Second. You didn't make a playlist? Really? The most gen X boombox on the street under her window person to ever exist is going on a two day trip and you didn't..."
There was a pause, a consideration. Felicia looked at the wolf and nodded, something decided, a lesser evil. "Try eighty-eight point one."
Jean smirked at the back and forth banter before the radio shifted to the music station on its own and a peppy Christian rock song blasted across all the speakers.
She squinted. "Uh...."
"Ha, you found a-" Kane barked a laugh and started to retort but the radio suddenly was consumed with static and 'God's Not Dead' was suddenly replaced with Collective Soul's 'Shine'. He shut his mouth quickly. "-forgot she's a goddamn witch." He muttered, settling back in his seat.
Jessica sighed. "All of this music is against my religion. This thing doesn't even have Bluetooth?"
Felicia, who had recoiled at being referred to by the magical persuasion, settled for another light kick as she settled in closer to Jess, patting her own shoulder in offer. "Nah, but it has a roomy back seat and a cute driver. I'll try to get some Garbage in the next hour, radio and I are acquaintances compared to Spotify friends."
"Next time we're taking the modern vehicle," Jean said. She put her finger against Garrison's protesting lips. "Tut tut. The ladies have spoken."
"I-" The retort started with the fact this car was a staple of law enforcement. In the 90s. It was a hardbodied vehicle designed with an oversized engine to match custom mods. In the 90s. That it could run through any car head to head. In the 90s.
"I just like the Hip." He muttered to himself.
"We know, dear," Jean mused, ruffling his hair. "Now let's get to New Orleans before Jessica rips the roof off and makes this a convertible."