Reaching the Techpriest's door, Torin rapped thrice, before leaning on the intercom built into the door-frame.<br/><br/>"Heyyy, tin-man . . . wanna shoot the breeze? I've got time on my hands, and we both know how fun you are to play around with." He drawled into the vox-grille, playing up his drunkenness for his own amusement. Sure, he was tipsy, but he wasn't quite acting like a buffoon . . . yet. Still, he assumed the Techpriest would be able to offer him all manner of creative and elaborate expletives that he could store for future use. The man was austere enough to be almost wonderfully dry in most cases, and, as far as Torin was concerned, this lent itself wonderfully to comedy when Zevion took things far more seriously than he otherwise should have.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>