Lower Fens Gotta keep on keeping on

[Dallas Montana]

Dallas was so hairy that no one knew he'd taken his shirt off to combat the summer heat. Like a built-in modesty device, his curly chest hairs protected his slightly freckled tan skin as he worked on the roof of a broken-down food truck while a how-to video lay paused on his phone beside him.

A circular sander buzzed loudly, not that Dallas could hear it, giant headphones protecting his ears as well as a mask and sunglasses to protect his face. In truth, Dallas hadn't started out with the protective wear, causing him to yelp after the first five minutes of working because the metal shaving got into his eyes. Thankfully his darling roommate could help him flush his eyes later, and until then, Dallas just tried not to blink. Going to the doctor's was not an option, not because he couldn't afford it, but because Dallas always refused medical care.

A weirdo.

Anyways. Sanding.

Progress was finally being made on their hunk of metal dream mobile, the flooring inside finally strong enough to be decorated and fitted with equipment, Dallas was just putting the final touches on the roof. Spending every moment of free time working on the contraption, it was easy for Dallas to lose track of time, meaning it was little surprise that Dallas had spent nearly an entire Saturday working, his back, despite his pre-disposed genetics to tan deeply, was beginning to burn from the hours in the hot sun.

Last patch spot sanded, Dallas sat back on the roof and wiped his sweaty brow, picking up his discarded t-shirt to towel off his melting frame and yanking off the protective gear.

Finally. Some air.

[Hadley Hopper]

The sun beat down unrelenting through the paltry cloud shield overhead. Humidity did the heat no favors and the air was still and static. Perfect weather for collapsing onto the floor and drying out like a tomato destined for some toasted bread and herbs. Alas, it wasn't part of the siren's meticulous plans for the day to wither in the sunshine, so after peeling themselves off their computer chair they threw themselves into the shower, tipped cooler to combat the suffocating temperatures outside. It was too hot for pants, in Hadley's humble opinion, but going out to work on the food truck required heftier clothing than a short yellow sundress and some strappy sandals.

So with a pair of pink leggings underneath their breezy get-up, they adjusted their straps while applying a generous handful of sunscreen to their delicate pale skin, all while charging out towards the spot they and their roommate kept their pet project for safe keeping and working.

The distant sound of metallic rasping informed Hadley of Dallas's continuing efforts to ensure the roof was perfect, and perhaps it was a small mercy that the noise ceased the second their sandals passed the threshold. Not that there was a threshold to pass, but they sort of considered the nearby parking spots the boundary of their "lot".

Met with the sight of their tall, hairy, sweaty roommate towelling off with a shirt, they cursed their lack of foresight.

Should have brought lemonade. Or at least some water.

They were usually so good at bringing water to keep their skin hydrated!

“You've been busy,” they called up, squinting against the sun and really only seeing the fuzzy, exhausted outline of the fluffy cook. “What else are we fixing up today?”

[Dallas Montana]

Throwing his legs over the side of the truck, Dallas could only ignore the way the hot metal seared against the backs of his legs up to the line of his shorts. In one way it felt nice, an intense heat battling the feeling of strain on his muscles from squatting for so long. He rubbed his eyes, a bad move in an attempt to soothe the irritation. There was a small relief when they began to well with tears, giving his eyes a reprieve from the scratching. Perhaps this was how Hadley felt when they decorated themselves with makeup, dousing their eyelids in pretty colors Dallas assimilated with peacocks and good candy. He wondered if he looked good and if the shavings had given him a lovely smear of shadow, but it was too hard to see on his phone with all the sunlight beating down on them.

Hadley caught them off guard, despite the bright clothing, his blurry vision making out pink legs and something flowy; Hadley's reddish poofy mop gave them away, causing Dallas to smile.

“Hopefully nothing else, unless you know how to replace an ignition switch.” Giving the covered 350 Chevy 5.7L engine a tap with the side of his foot before sliding off to join his dear friend on the pavement. The beast weighed a little under 600 lbs, meaning the boys were trying everything in their power to revive the monster with tune-ups, fearing the price of paying someone to help them haul it off. “I... need to level the exterior counter, uh, but I can't see the level bubble and mount it at the same time-uh, but we can wait if you don't want to get dirty?” In truth, Dallas could probably manage it by propping it up, but the thought of seeing something as small as a level reader made his eyes burn.

Besides, group projects. Right?