hey there passengers, it's me, ya commissary

[dealwiththe]

Passengers: Everyone (get in here)
Location: Ye Olde Commissary
Date: March 1-7
Summary: Put tickets in, get knives, foam wives, and novelty t-shirts out (sorry I couldn't think of another rhyme)
Warnings: Will add as needed.


[ Ooooooooooooooh.... ]

Comments

[smugreport]

[ 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.

[grindset]

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?

[smugreport]

[ 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.

[grindset]

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?

[smugreport]

[ 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.

[grindset]

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.

[smugreport]

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.

[grindset]

[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.