Parts: Everything in its Place
Disclaimer: I don't own Cars.
Finn gave the mission files one final once-over before turning the computer off and turning to face the rest of Siddeley's empty cabin. He hadn't gotten word from headquarters, and Holley was off to see Mater, leaving him with nothing to do but wait.
Well, he could talk to Siddeley, but even though they were good friends, professionally and personally, the plane, in Finn's opinion, wasn't much on engaging conversation about anything other than current events, something Finn certainly didn't want to talk about right then.
He drove out of Siddeley and down Route Sixty-Six to a thriving, tourist-filled Radiator Springs. At the V8 diner, he spotted a familiar blue muscle car. "Well, hello," he said.
"Hey, man," Axle replied.
"How are you?"
"Pretty good, you?"
"About the same. It's a waiting game right now." Axle chuckled. "I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life in Los Angeles."
"No problem. It was more of a matter of what my brother Torque would've wanted, though."
"I can respect that."
"Any word from your tuner friends? I heard they're on the right side of the law now."
"You could say that. I just got here, and while I haven't heard from them personally, but I recieved a delivery confirmation when I sent out what needed to be sent out."
"That's good, right?"
"In this line of work, it's some of the best news I've heard yet."
"Well, I can see that."
"Can I get you boys anythin'?" Flo asked.
"Care for anything?" Axle asked, looking at Finn.
"Nothing for me, thank you," Finn replied.
"We're good, thanks."
"You two enjoy your afternoon," she said, driving off to engage in conversation with other customers.
Boost glanced at his carefully-selected hiding spot in his cone, where the package postmarked from Britain waited to be opened. The attached envelope said only to open it on Finn McMissile's instruction, or upon recieving word that he was in danger. The Manufacturer only knew when that would be, so he told no one that it even existed.
"Everything okay in here, man?" Wingo asked from the other side of the door.
"Yeah," Boost replied. "You up for a few laps up at the butte?" He pressed the button to open the door.
"Hell yeah. C'mon, let's go. I'll get the others." Wingo zipped around the motel, knocking on two more doors. Within minutes, the four tuners were on their way out of town, toward Willie's Butte, and a few minutes later, they were engaged in an impromptu race, laughing and joking like old times.