Leaning back from the machine, the mousy brown haired lad wiped grease from his face, a monkey wrench in hand.<span style="color: royalblue"> "Alright Walley, try it now!"</span>He called out, voice holding a level of sophystication, of noblemanship that belied his stained suspender pants and ratty brown wool shirt. Before him, the steam powered, locomotion driven organ began to play and move at once, the going slow and music almost drown out by the furnace and pressurized air of the mammoth machine. "All good hoss, thanks!" Called off the driver/player, as he began his rounds of the circus grounds once more.<br/><br/><span style="color: royalblue">"Another day, another dime."</span>the mechanic intoned to himself, using a wiperag to clear his hands before another three whistle burst called his attention: The now all too common callsign for 'we need a mechanic! So, with a heavy sigh, Cid flopped his two sizes two big hat onto his head, hefted his box of mostly second rate tools, and began a brisk jog to the site of the problem... His pace slowing to a powerwalk as he darted past the  meal area, using his free hand to pull his hat down, masking the blush and glances he shot at an unsuspecting Gabrielle. God, he was such a twerp, and he knew it...<br/><br/>Once out of eye-shot, he began running once more, breathless and drained by the time he reached the firing range, the midget, and a transportable conveyor belt machine which had stopped pumping out clay targets.<span style="color: royalblue">"On the frits again?"</span>He asked the helpless carny, an older gentleman who had been doing this sort of thing his entire life. The greying man glowered, but relented to the local genious, giving him space to work. Cid wasted no time dropping to his knees and opening the machine up, arms rooting around inside it's metal shell, before a slight giggle and 'please-don't-kill-me' look was given to the older gentleman.<span style="color: royalblue">"Uh... Well... You see. It's nothing major, just some of the clay fell off the conveyor again..."</span>Ducking his head to hide it likewise in the machine.<span style="color: royalblue">"Yea... It's a bit of a mess, your going to need a chisel and hammer..."</span>He went on, before pulling his head out, a new grease stain on his left cheek, as he glanced to the emerald dressed gunslinger.<br/><br/><span style="color: royalblue">"Is it true what they say?"</span>He asked in a hushed tone.<span style="color: royalblue">"That she never misses?"</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>