[ He really, really should have heard whoever this is coming. What are these ears for if not early warning? But he'd been too engrossed, too frustrated with the minute work he can barely see or reach, and her voice is the first sign he catches of this sudden arrival. He starts, knocks the slender tool he'd had half buried in the mechanics of his left arm against something it should not knock against, and mutters a curse very softly under his breath. ]
Gears are all yours.
[ Perhaps he should take issue with this enterprising whoever picking through another's shop, but honestly, who can say if the original owners are ever actually coming back? It's fine.
He shifts to put a shelf between himself and the entrance of the store; he's bared to his waist and would really rather avoid any staring at the scars, the metal arm, the vents in his sides. ]
Only, if you'd be so kind, leave any tools you might find. I've need of those.
no subject
Gears are all yours.
[ Perhaps he should take issue with this enterprising whoever picking through another's shop, but honestly, who can say if the original owners are ever actually coming back? It's fine.
He shifts to put a shelf between himself and the entrance of the store; he's bared to his waist and would really rather avoid any staring at the scars, the metal arm, the vents in his sides. ]
Only, if you'd be so kind, leave any tools you might find. I've need of those.