While the Vultures have developed some tendency to populate Amanuel's workshop and the alleys around it, they are still aware (sometimes painfully so) that the place is his, and is potentially dangerous. Observation of the new, sharp, hot, or charged elements of the shop is a slowly developing survival skill, with more than one of the gangers having acquired burns, cuts or bruises along the way.<br/><br/>If they could even begin to understand radiation, they'd probably be having conniptions.<br/><br/>As it is, Amanuel's new rotating altar-piece garners more than a little cautious attention simply by being in motion and having massive cables running to it.<br/><br/>...Massive cables went on<em>los Buitres'</em>list of 'things not to touch or steal' rather early on.<br/><br/>Rez is at the front of the little delegation, and her reflex is to try to catch the falling Savvyhead...A reflex which is somewhat forestalled when the steel points across the knuckles of her glove unexpectedly spark violet. Her reaction is less a lucky guess about the metal on only one side of her body having heated up (not to mention having thrown miniature lightnings) than a sort of flailing gesture to 'shake off' the strangeness, which results in her not so much dropping Amanuel directly back to the concrete as shoving him away from his altar.<br/><br/>"Damn't, 'Man." she steps back a few paces involuntarily, noticing her waving arm warming again, and shifting the resulting glare from Amanuel to his altar as he attempts to speak.<br/><br/><em>Prime numbers? </em>The Chopper's grunt is the simplest answer possible that doesn't divulge her complete lack of understanding of what Amanuel is talking about. She waves one of her juniors at the array of jugs before looking back down at the Savvyhead.<br/><br/>"Y'oughta hire a fookin' k-..." her snarly recommendation is cut off by what is<em>unmistakeably</em>a girly squeal as one of the Vultures, having rightly decided that some of the jugs were not water, uncapped the first one and stuck his nose in it. This results in the jug being dropped, his hands clapped to cover his nose, and a face-first run full-tilt into the concrete wall that leaves him staggering as well as both bleating and bleeding. The entertainment brings a couple more Vultures over, who make sure to step wide around the slowly spreading puddle of clear, bubbling liquid which is beginning to produce profligate amounts of acrid, white smoke from the concrete floor.<br/><br/>Rez is having none of it. "FR'FUCK'S SAKE, jus' gimme y'canteen!" She selects one of the few proferred and uncorks it, upending it over Amanuel's face for a moment before leaning down to put its mouth to his chapped lips and grabbing first one, then the other of his hands and squeezing them around it. "Y'got that? Don' fuckin' drown now. Got business."<br/><br/>She glances around the ever-changing menagerie of machines, half of which are assembled and half of which seem to be running (and those sets often don't overlap by much) on any given day, then glares back at the altar again while she waits for Amanuel to finish with the canteen.