GW Robichaux

Marie Chambers, scourge of the courtroom... Litigator of evil... Viper of Wolfram and Hart...

And totally useless when it came to cars.

With head under bonnet and a clear look of distaste at the prospect of getting oil on her business suit, the redhead was not looking forward to doing the necessary. Whatever 'the necessary' might turn out to be, at any rate. There was a lot of smoke, whatever the case. Or was that steam?

About as much use over an engine as Sonya Ramius at an elocution contest, Marie squinted, pulling out a small mobile telephone in the hope of getting ahold of someone who knew what they were doing.

"Great," the lawyer remarked, finding next to no signal registering on the screen. "Just great..."

GW couldn't help but notice the woman in a business suit with her head stuck under the hood of her overheating car, or at least it looked like it was overheating to him judging from the color of the steam as he drew closer.

It was late and there weren't a lot of cars on the road, and GW would never forgive himself if he didn't stop and something happened to the woman. If Vegas didn't seem to be such a supernatural weirdness magnet maybe he would have simply left it alone as he saw she had a cell phone, but it was and so he pulled his truck over to the side of the road about thirty feet ahead of her.

He was on his way home from a gig, and was dressed in black jeans and an olive drab t-shirt that were a bit dirtier than they'd been the start of the day from packing gear away and the heat of the stage lights. To add insult to injury he'd had beer spilled on him so he probably wasn't smelling the best right now.

GW hoped she didn't freak and call the police.


The Cajun got out of his truck and walked back toward the redhead. "You all right there, Ma'am? Looks like you've got a lil' engine trouble. Need a hand?" He kept his tone friendly and light, and made sure not to move too quickly. He was looking to help her out, but sometimes Good Samaritans wound up in the hospital. Or the Morgue.

Ah fuck, I'm gonna' get raped...

Marie's was the mental reaction of just about any woman alone at night, being approached by an apparently 'helpful' male. Of course, once she caught sight of what George actually looked like, the redhead reflected with a slightly more positive mental outlook.

Hmm, wonder what he'd look like with a monkey wrench.

"Well, it's kind of... Stopped," Marie answered, offering the sum total of her mechanical expertise. "And it hisses a lot. Kind of like an old person, but with wheels."

"Name's GW Robichaux, ma'am," GW offered as he came up to the car, just so she'd have a name to go with his face. Maybe if she knew his name she'd conclude correctly that all he was here for was to help out. "I'll take a look n' see what I can see."

She wasn't pointing a taser, peper spray, or pistol at him so that was a good sign.

He smiled once again at her then peered down under the hood. Steam was billowing out from around the edges of the radiator cap and he ducked his head back out from under the hood and faced the owner of the vehicle once again, this time the smile was replaced by a somber expression. "Well, th' good news is you made it off th' road ok. Th' bad news is you won't be goin' anywhere soon with that unless you get some coolant into it."

The Cajun gestured toward the vehicle. "Th' engine overheated, probably din' have enough anti-freeze. Could be a leak somewhere, could be it just didn't get topped off when you got th' oil changed." It was probably a safe bet she didn't change the oil in her car herself, not when she drove a luxury car and wore a tailored business suit. The woman's entire demeanor screamed 'money'.

"Right..." Marie answered, not so much skeptical as disconcerted, hence the slight wrinkling of nose in response to the noted advice. She understood the basics of what had been meant, she just had very little practical experience in dealing with it. The kind of problems she fixed were of a more legal nature. "Guess that's that, then."

Cars. Feh. Why couldn't the company just give them all drivers, hmm? OK, so it might be a little expensive, but...

So much for the vehicular demonic blessing ceremony.

"Is it dead or you get any on you?"

GW shook his head regretfully. "'Fraid not ma'am." he gestured toward his truck. "I'm a musician, not an auto mechanic. Water would work for a temporary fix, but I don't have any o' that either."

He wondered how long it would take to get a tow truck out here to tow her car to the nearest mechanic. At least an hour probably.

"Way I see it, we have three options,:" GW told her. "Option one: I give you a ride t' the gas station an buy a jug o' antifreeze or t' wherever you need t' go an' you can deal wit' your car later." He doubted she'd go for that one. Get in a car with a guy she didn't know at all? Not likely. GW wouldn't blame her at all if she didn't pick that one.

"Option two: I go get the antifreeze an' come back. Might not fix the problem, but it should buy some time t' get wherever you need t' go." he gave her a quick once over, "if that's the option I think you outta stay in the car till I get back, it's safer that way." If nothing else it would save her from possibly getting taken out by some idiot drunk driver.

"Option three: we call a tow truck or the cops. T' be honest I don' think the cops'll be much good, better t' call th' tow truck but that's up t' you."

"If I could get a signal, yeah..."

It would have been the most preferable option. Probably the one she had been attempting to pursue by the time he got there, but to no avail. Marie could have tried walking up and down the road, of course. Before she could make such a decision, however, that was when he entered the picture.

"'Kay, you get the antifreeze and I'll pay for however much it is. I'll be sitting in the car. That's why God invented tasers."

GW chuckled and nodded in agreement. "Sit tight Ma'am. I'll be back in a bit, you bet."

It was only a few miles to the nearest gas station, and GW returned about ten minutes later with two jugs of antifreeze. By the time he'd returned the woman's car had stopped smoking, which he took as a good sign

A check of the coolant reservoir showed that it was indeed bone dry, and GW poured one full jug into it and then waited.

The woman had emerged from her car, and GW nodded cheerfully. "We'll get you back on the road again in no time."

It wasn't any big deal to him, the antifreeze didn't cost all that much and he didn't have anywhere to go but home.

After talking to her, GW took a handkerchief out of his pocket and carefully twisted off the radiator cap to pour more coolant directly into the radiator. It was still hot, so he had to watch out to avoid being burned.

When the gesture to offer financial compensation was apparently refused, Marie blinked in surprise. Guys like that no longer existed outside of Hollywood fiction. Not unless they were after something else and that was now seeming less and less likely. If they did, then Wolfram and Hart would almost certainly have got to them before she ever did.

Oh, wait... Good looks, honesty and a decent haircut with it. She knew what was up.

George Robichaux was gay. It was either that or he was an actor and, really, one was as good as the other.

Yep, that was it. Everything made sense now, no matter how much Meredith Underhill would have disagreed.

"Well, thanks!" Marie beamed, pleasantly surprised by the lack of sexual assault in her night of automobile calamity. "You heading to a bar or something? I've heard Homme J'Adour's good for that kinda' thing."

GW blinked. Homme J'Adour? That had to be the first time he'd ever been accused of being gay.

"No, my band an' I just got done w' a gig over at the Orleans. I play the fiddle an do the lead vocals fer the Cajun Devildogs. If country music is your kind o' music then you might wanna give us a listen sometime." He dug out his walled and handed out a business card. "We've got gigs all over, the next couple months."

Maybe he ought to go see if Meredith was home instead of heading directly to his place.

"Ohhh...!"

Now things made even more sense and Marie smiled in realization with her next nod. Unless, of course, he was a gay musician. But regardless of sexuality, a career like that might explain some of it.

Taking the card and scrutinizing it with a momentary frown, the lawyer was reminded of her own career and did likewise with a much more professional means of her occupational identification. It was plastic, glossy and personalized, complete with a 'Wolfram & Hart' logo.

"Y'ever run someone over or get charged with noise violations, give me a call," the redhead offered with a good-natured smirk.

If Meredith and especially Lorne ever got wind of his consorting with the firm, times could get very interesting. Until then, however, Marie was just another potential friend in life.

A Wolfram & Hart lawyer huh? Great, just great. He'd heard some of the shenanigans that the New Orleans office had been up to since the city was founded, and Mere had talked about some of what the Vegas office had done.

Maybe this Marie Chambers wasn't that bad, GW had no way of knowing whether she was or not.

Still, having an attorney owing him a favor was never a bad thing. He pocketed the card and smirked back.

"You should be good t' go now," he told her, screwing the radiator cap back on and closing the hood. "Best get it checked in the next day or so though. You take care o' yourself, Miss Chambers, hear?"

With that he nodded politely and headed back to his truck. He might just head over to Meredith's after all, if she was home.

But first, a shower would be in order or he'd show up at her door smelling of beer and antifreeze.