"Hardlight? Too volatile, kid. Nobody wants it. Too hard to power. Clockwork, now. That's the big natural power source. Find something that can run on clockwork and I'll work on gettin' you your next patent."<br/><br/>Gabrielle narrowed her eyes, a brief flash of manic rage only flickering across her silver-purple irises. She folded her arms under her barely-significant breasts and leaned her neck forward, attempting a posture that would be more imposing if she were taller than five feet. "Clockwork? Clockwork is... clockwork is old. Its safe. It has no risk, no reward, no... no challenge." Gabriella growled faintly. Her voice had a barely-detectible rasp, and an even more insinuous squeak, signs of a lower accent she had spent years trying to work past. "Clockwork has no art."<br/><br/>"And hardlight does?" The man said. He was heavyset, crude, one of the few patenters who would work with a low elf. "Look kid... you've done some great stuff in bioinorganic hardware. And I think if anyone could come up with a safe power source for a personalized hardlight simulator, it's probably you. But that kinda technology is decades away." He tapped out his cigar before sitting back down at his desk, a sign for Gabriella to go. "I ain't riskin' it."<br/><br/>Without a word, she stepped out of his office. Safe power source, huh... well, safe was a subjective term. It was time for more personal tests.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>