Chapman called Lou, remembering after she'd picked up the bricks that she needed to call her. She was staring at the sorry peice of shit that was the old bar-b-que that was in her way when Lou's voicemail picked up.
"Lou. Llid. Bar-b-que. Call me."
She ended the call and scowled at the pit, like that would help it disintegrate. It was more than just bar-b-que she wanted to talk to the fellow red-head about, but she would lead into it through bar-b-que. Where the heck was Alex? They were supposed to tear this sucker apart. She turned on her heel and made her way into the house, looking for the hillbilly princess.
The sound of the phone ringing was ignored because, well, working an oxy-acetelene torch was more important at the moment. Torch in one hand, tongs in the other she was guiding the intense flame along the long blade she'd just finished shaping on the belt sander, eyes intense as they watched the steel shift color under the heat. Just a little bit more... then the blade was snapped from the flame and carefully dipped into the long bucket full of motor oil, grinning as flame burst upwards in a sudden flash. Quenching in motor oil was fun, no two ways about it. She pulled the blade out, carefully examining it for signs of torqueing before nodding to herself. Perfect. Blade was laid on her bench and the torch shut off stowing her gear before moving to the phone to check the message.
She frowned slightly at the short message, gnawing lightly at her lower lip before she dialed Llydia back, listening to the ringing sound before it was answered.
"Hey, its Lou." she hesistated a moment before almost blurting, "Tag." Yup, she was trying. No one said she was good at it though.
