Engineer | Dell Conagher (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spah) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rackofbadcds2018-07-06 09:22 pm
spah) wrote in rackofbadcds2018-07-06 09:22 pm
Entry tags:
something so sentimental you make so detrimental
When he was on-base, Engineer spent most of his off-time tinkering. Camping, music, or hanging around the others were always options, naturally, but the mercenary almost always had a personal project going on.
This time, it was technically someone else's project. Miss Pauling asked him (re: not-so-subtly suggested) to take a look at her moped a while back, and after they both schemed an effective way to liquify about 80 bodies, he figured - why not?
Turns out, liquifying people is easier.
Engie can be found in his garage, hunched over a purple moped and muttering details nonsensical to anyone but himself. Between engine grease and the desert heat, he shucked off his team-issued shirt and tied his overall straps around his waist, showing off a farmer's tan and old tattoos poking out through an undershirt.
Seriously, though. The thing in front of him was a mess. Save for a decent exterior, it was near-falling apart on the inside, a damn miracle it even held together long enough for Pauling to drive it here. It looked nice enough, sure, but holy hell if she didn't exaggerate the sort of noises it made. Finally, the merc sighs and stands from his work stool, tossing tools onto a roving cart and stepping to his workbench nearby to clean his hands.
Yep, he needs a break.
This time, it was technically someone else's project. Miss Pauling asked him (re: not-so-subtly suggested) to take a look at her moped a while back, and after they both schemed an effective way to liquify about 80 bodies, he figured - why not?
Turns out, liquifying people is easier.
Engie can be found in his garage, hunched over a purple moped and muttering details nonsensical to anyone but himself. Between engine grease and the desert heat, he shucked off his team-issued shirt and tied his overall straps around his waist, showing off a farmer's tan and old tattoos poking out through an undershirt.
Seriously, though. The thing in front of him was a mess. Save for a decent exterior, it was near-falling apart on the inside, a damn miracle it even held together long enough for Pauling to drive it here. It looked nice enough, sure, but holy hell if she didn't exaggerate the sort of noises it made. Finally, the merc sighs and stands from his work stool, tossing tools onto a roving cart and stepping to his workbench nearby to clean his hands.
Yep, he needs a break.