returnjourneylogs | hey there passengers, it's me, ya commissary

It might just be an issue with the clothes options, but gotta start somewhere right?

[ God, Rhys misses his connection to the echonet more with each passing day. If his eye and arm were in working order, he could just scan the thing and check its diagnostics.

Actually...It's probably futile, he knows it, but why the hell not? He boots up his eye, and it glows a faint amber as he attempts to scan the commissary machine. C'mon...give him something to work with. ]

Exactly.

[Starting small: just one ticket. In you go, friend. Now, to select—

But first his attention is drawn by the fresh lack of movement in his peripheral vision. He holds, hand hovering above the panel, and slowly leans back to improve on what he can see past the corner of the machine.

He could ask, but that would interrupt— whatever Rhys is doing, engaging with his implants— that is what Rhys is doing, isn't it? Should he interrupt? Probably. Is he? No. He's still but for his eyes, darting looks, down and up again.]

[ Like any other time Rhys has tried to scan things on this ship, all that he gets back is a big flashing yellow alert in his HUD reminding him that he ~is not permitted~

He blinks the alert away, shaking his head as if to dislodge the useless feedback before checking back on Viktor. ]

Any luck?

[The check is met with a rapid look away, like he's been caught, even though it makes no sense to do that because watching inmates is literally his job. Luck, right, the thing. He mashes the button.

While the machine processes, he throws another glance—just standing here awkwardly, don't mind him—and when it's ready, he slides the door open, and,]

Uh.

[Behold, the birth of chicken bag.]

Well, it's... not a shirt...

It...sure isn't. Is that supposed to be a purse?

[ Though it's not like Viktor asked for a shirt, or anything else specific. ]

So I guess that rules out the randomizer malfunctioning. Maybe we can just unplug it and let it reset? That's a classic.

Mm, perhaps. I didn't see any power source... but... it could be tucked in behind the machine.

[He says this while turning the bag over in his hands. Rubber. Why this. Going for the zipper, cautiously looking inside, he confirms:]

It's a purse.

[Caution evaporates; he sticks a hand in, feels around. Feels like synthetic lining—oh, a little pocket—]

What, eh... what was that you were doing a moment ago? When you were looking.

[ Rhys leans around the side of the machine again in an attempt to get a look at the back. It's not flush with the wall so there's a chance that there's an outlet there somewhere, but too dark to tell with out a light.

Thankfully Rhys has a built in one, and he switches on his palm light to get a better look. ]

When I was- Oh! Looking. I was trying to get its specs with my echo-eye, but it hasn't worked properly since I got here.

[ Called over his shoulder as he crouches closer to the ground and attempts to wedge his robo-hand behind the machine. ]

[Should he be discouraging Rhys from potentially jamming his whole arm in the mystery space behind a huge appliance of unknown origin? Maybe. Probably.]

Deliberate tampering, most likely. The Admiralty seems to have some method of neutralizing potentially problematic abilities, and I believe your... echo-eye, [cool name,] falls within that category.

[He zips up the chicken bag.]

Shame. I'd be interested to see how it functions under normal circumstances.

[ There's a distinct clattering sound of metal against metal as Rhys tries to fit his hand behind the machine, but is unable to get past his fingers.

He sighs as he straightens back up, giving the whole thing a once over, then the same to Viktor. ]

I don't think with even the both of us pulling we'd be able to move this thing.

[ He just gives a drawn out sigh, rubs at the back of his neck. ]

Wait, if it's deliberate that means it's reversible right? I bet if a warden asked nicely I'd be able to show you this puppy's full potential.

[He was just told the eye isn't functioning, but being subject to a scan, even a plain visual scan, nonetheless makes him feel a little uncomfortable. So far, he's been able to keep his secret—and he'd like it to stay that way.

That and he's still not entirely accustomed to being looked at all the time.]

Ehh, somehow I doubt 'because I want to see it' would fly. Someday in the future, perhaps.

[He's shifting his weight, resting his hand on the panel's ledge with knuckles down, the way he's most accustomed to standing; a subconscious adjustment.]

What about your arm? Any restrictions?

[ There's visible disappointment at that answer, even though he hadn't gotten his hopes up in the first place.

He rarely scans people these days, knowing that it'll likely net no results. ]

Oh yeah, it's basically just a giant flashlight now. Er- and other, usual arm stuff. There's heavy duty CPU in here and I can barely access it. Holo-functions, data retrieval and logging, screen syncing...all gone.

Fascinating.

[Viktor's still learning the terminology, but he definitely knows CPU. Interest slowly infuses his posture, unreserved.]

Where I'm from, biomechanical implants are not common, [yet,] but they do exist. Nothing like this, though. Building prostheses to interface with other machines... that's an inspiring idea.

[I want to look inside your arm: probably a weird thing to say to a person. But he's thinking it very loudly.]

Is it safe to assume you perform any necessary maintenance yourself?

[ Viktor suddenly has Rhys's complete attention. There's few things he enjoys more than talking about himself and his personal accomplishments, and his augmentations are the purest form of those things.

"An inspiring idea" bounces around inside his skull as he answers, entirely too self pleased. ]

Heck yeah I do. I mean, I'm the one who built them and all. I'm the one who's gonna know best how to take care of them.

You built these. The eye too?

[Well, then. There's nothing gradual about the way his expression opens up—just a bloom of enthusiasm, completely honest.]

I had no idea you were so technologically minded. Literally, [he adds, with a quick tilt of the head. Echo-eye and all. Ha ha, nerd quips.] I-if I may ask, how confident are you with the Peregrine's equipment? Could you... let's say, for example... perform maintenance on an ATV?

[ Rhys puffs his chest out like a proud parent (his augments are, after all, his babies) matching Viktor's enthusiasm with his own. Several wardens (and inmates) have expressed passing interest in his robo-parts, but few seemed super engaged with the concept beyond expected fascination.

A warden who might give him an opening to freely take stuff apart and tinker with it, a warden who seemed to have an interest in tech and tinkering...that could be a boon for him. ]

No ones given me a chance to really get into anything here and root around, but I bet I could figure it out. Most tech has similar base components no matter where you are in the galaxies.

That does seem to be the case so far.

[His head is currently full of robotics tutorials and appliance instructions the same way people get stuck on songs, but there's still room. Why not?

Gloved fingers lift to his chin, tap light on his lips—thinking—]

Mmm, give me some time to figure it out. I can't make any promises, but... maybe something can be arranged. I'll see what I can do.

Seriously?

[ Said with equal amounts skepticism and enthusiasm. He's been itching to work on something- anything to pass the time, but has felt that if something wasn't already blocked off from him, it was just a waste of time he could spend trying to get out of here.

The latter is seeming less and less an option...and there will be a while till next port, probably. ]

That'd be good. The Navarch doesn't know what she's missing out on, denying me a chance to fiddle with this place's tech.

[Viktor answers with a crisp nod: yes, seriously.

Time's ticking down on his standing comfort, so he gathers up his crutch and... chicken purse... which he tucks under his arm like a little deflated football. Its beady eye stares at Rhys almost judgementally.]

I think the Navarch knows exactly what to expect, should any of us be permitted to fiddle. [A good word that sounds good coming out of his mouth.] Best to avoid attracting too much of her attention for now.

hey there passengers, it's me, ya commissary

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