An artisan huffed as her current predicament continued to confound her. Dilliigently working at a cluttered machine bench the young girl grumbled as she examined numerous casings, barrels, and components of disassembled bowguns strewn nearby. As the minutes ticked by, she slowly pieced her project back together, bit by bit, until a sleek bowgun laid on the table. The artisan sighed, grumbling to herself about the high maintenance nature of the thing.<br/><br/>She was of an athletic build, despite her trade, if a bit smaller than your average resident. She had blonde hair, tied back into a ponytail that barely reached her shoulders. She had fair skin, and piercing red eyes hidden behind a pair of multi-lensed spectacles. She was wearing a tan workshirt under a thick leather apron, the kind commonly worn by those who spend any amount of time at the workshop. A simple pair of trousers and sturdy leather work boots completed the look. The girl changed the lens on her glasses, and inspected the completed weapon further, before she sighed again and leaned back at her workstation.<br/><br/>As she did, a low meow was heard from the workshop entrance. Hefting a large crate stacked with various bits and bobs was a rather large Palico. She sported a brown and black coat, slightly uneven in places, and a large bushy tail. The Palico made its' way to the girl's workstation before dropping the crate. She looked athe girl expectantly, puffing out her chest as if waiting to receive some kind of medal for her service. The girl giggled, before patting the Palico's head.<i>"Yes, yes. Thank you, Duchess. We need to make plenty of shells before we head out again, don't we? Of course, and those firebombs you love so much..."</i>The girl trailed off.<br/><br/>The two of them had been hunters in the Second Fleet for quite some time now, though it was still weird to consider. All of her peers had gone home, after all. Being born in the New World had complications of its' own as well, but she had the aptitude, and nobody in her fleet would let her waste it. Now, while most of her time was spent assisting in the workshop, she was still a fully qualified hunter. 'Black Powder Princess Jeanette', some of her peers called her, due to her armor choice and fixation with the stuff. Still, it was hard to argue the results.<br/><br/>Jeanette pulled various ingredients from the crate, and began the work of fashioning new bowgun shells. As more time went by, she sorted them into their various places. Piercing rounds, spread rounds, and the occasional explosive shot all soon had their place at the table, while Duchess happily worked away at the creation of more bombs of her own. As day turned into evening, the table became piled high with combat ready bullets, much to the pair's satisfaction.<br/><br/>Though, as the two admired their handiwork, a loud grumbling in Jeanette's stomach signaled the duo to stop for the time being. With a wordless exchange, the two nodded, stood, and left the workshop for the cantina outside.