<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Amanuel</strong></span><br/><br/>The last of the fritter went down easily, unlike some people Amanuel had known in the recent past. He smiled and licked the last drop of apple syrup mixed with engine block grease from his fingers. There was work to be done now that the elements had shifted. Too many cogsteps behind and the whole system could be thrown off. It was the fate of those who could see the Greater Machine to be constantly adjusting Its workings, for such things did not tend to themselves. If the Universe were perfect clockwork then the Creator would not have created servants.<br/><br/>The slim man slid from the driver's seat down to the floor of his workshop. Carefully he pressed the door closed, the click of the seals engaging a promise from him to return, and from Her to welcome him inside once again. There would be changes made, now. Marco had ordered him to seek approval before cutting holes, and this he could safely promise. There were so many<em>other</em>things that could be done. Holes could be widened. Holes could be moved. Holes could be misplaced. Holes could be<em>filled</em>. She had so many holes, after so much time, and he could not hope to satisfy all of them. One, at least -- Yes. It was an imbalance that could be neatly remedied. The object stolen from Marco, that had been put to no use. The object owned by Marco, that saw only one of its purposes fulfilled. These two could be mated. It would be done.<br/><br/>First, though, there was asshole residue to expunge. He surveyed the damage to his workshop. The bullet holes would remain. They lent a certain character to the place, and with the wind whistling properly and some adjustment to the diameters he was certain he could tune the sheet metal doors to match the key of the Organ. The other organs, the blood... It would take hours to scrub, with the Vultures unlikely to help. Removing the evidence of their revelry was contraindicated in their operating profiles. For only a few more hours invested, though, and the expenditure of admittedly precious water by the hectalitre, he could produce both a clean workshop, a reasonable approximation of a high-pressure water drill, and an excuse to practice more dentistry.<br/><br/>Prior to first... Zeroeth? The gun, the kegs -- things begged to tell their stories, and only he might listen. And one more, the Rose. "Rose?" he asked, peering into the material world to see what had changed since he began ruminating. "Thank you, for the food. It is good to see you again. We have stories to exchange, yes? Or we will. Dinner? The microwave emitter is working again, if meat can be found." It was a thing of beauty, the emitter, and the tingling sensations were best experienced at a distance of approximately three meters.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">ooc</div><div class="spoiler_body">When appropriate, Amanuel will have a little chit-chat with both the kegs and Q's new gun.<br/><br/><em>Things Speak</em><br/>Roll Result: Amanuel rolled: 2d6, adding 2to the total<br/>Comment: Things Speak Kegs<br/>Result: 2, 4,<br/>Total: 8<br/>Question: Who made this?<br/><br/>Roll Result: Amanuel rolled: 2d6, adding 2to the total<br/>Comment: Things Speak The Gun<br/>Result: 3, 6,<br/>Total: 11<br/>Questions:<br/>What words have been said most recently near this? (Hopefully not just a recap of the last scene.)<br/>Who made this?<br/>What strong emotions have been most recently nearby this?<br/><br/>Marking Weird XP.<br/><br/></div></div><br/>