[FIN] Mechanical Solutions [Sera]

[Dark]

It was almost funny how wide of a berth people gave him now that he was cripple, but if anyone offered to “assist” him, he was going for their throats. He was at a distinct disadvantage, but that didn’t mean he was completely incapable of taking care of himself; he was still a threat if he wanted to be, damn it.

If the information he had been given was correct, however, he wouldn’t be at a disadvantage for long. He’d almost been ready to accept his new status, distasteful as the idea was, when he’d been informed of a Corvistownian that might be able to make him a replacement limb. Much safer than going to his mother—gods knew what she’d end up doing to him.

He sat back on his haunches and checked to make sure he had the address right before knocking. Hopefully this ‘Richard Owens’ would be able to help him.

[seraaches]

(( Gomen, i lost the thread. i found it, though! ))

Richard Owen, genius extraordinaire, especially in regards to replacement limbs, was in a delicate part of adjusting the prototype on the table before him. He had a jeweler's glass held tightly against one eye, squinting in an awkward fashion to be certain he didn't lose it. A few more connections, and he would be able to test the inner-- a knock at the door startled him and his foot slipped. The inner electronics of the wing shorted, zapping him straight through his own metal foot.

The sparrow leapt back with an angry curse. He had no deliveries scheduled for today and certainly didn't expect any visitors. Owen ducked his head down and jerked his jeweler's glass off before dropping it (a bit more carefully) on the table beside the wing. Whoever was at his door was on their way to a tongue lashing.

The Corvie stalked to the door and jerked it open. "Wot do you want?"

[Dark]

Hadyn felt rather taken back, but recovered quickly, "Did I come at a bad time?" Corvies were such a mixed bag, but one constant seemed to be that they didn't appreciate being disturbed when they were working; hopefully the chance to experiment on someone new would cool the man's ire.

"I was wondering about setting up an appointment. It's my arm, you see." Obviously, but--the man seemed a bit distracted.

It took Hadyn a moment to realize what he was looking at while he regarded the irritated avian, and he blinked when it finally dawned on him. Well, damn. At least now he knew the bird was capable of the delicate work Hadyn was interested in--if it was his work, which it probably was. Corvies didn't exactly trust one another.

"Can you still, uh..." Hadyn gestured vaguely, not able to stop the question from sneaking out. He couldn't think of any reason someone would willing do that to himself, unless there had been an accident.

[seraaches]

Owen stared at the cat. . . thing standing at his door with a vague expression of disgust until he drew attention to his stub of an arm. The sparrow narrowed his golden eyes as he inspected it curiously, idly hoping the man hadn't been right-handed before his accident. It looked older, however, which would make things harder in the long-run; the ghost sensations might still be strong, but the nerves weren't primed for action anymore.

"Can you still, uh. . ."

Owen glanced up at the man, irritation flashing across his face. "Of course I can still fly. It would be idiotic to cause myself to lose that ability. Come inside--" and the man sounded almost disappointed in this command. "Tell me exactly what you're looking for and what you're going to pay; I have very pressing projects I could be working on right now."

[Dark]

Hadyn quirked a brow; was the man avoiding the question, or had he honestly misunderstood? Probably safer just to let the matter drop--did he really want to know that badly?--and move to the more pressing issue: getting his arm fixed.

He followed the man inside.

"I'd like to see what you can do about my arm--or what's left of it. I'd like a replacement, if it's within your capabilities," Hadyn stated plainly. As far as cost was concerned, he really didn't care how much it cost as long as it worked, but he wasn't going to be telling Richard Owen that. He'd learned early on when dealing in matters of money never to show your whole hand, or you'd be robbed blind. "What I'm willing to pay is negotiable, based on the materials required and the level of craftsmanship involved."

Whatever the scientist couldn't do with mechanics, Hadyn supposed he could make up for by having it enchanted, but he wanted to see what the man was capable of first.

[seraaches]

Owen snorted at the explanation, glancing towards his main lab, where the prototype wing lay in waiting. He was tempted to bring the arrogant. . . Mix thing in there, but the electronics were currently bared and he didn't trust any idiots in his lab; he had no proof yet whether this man would fall into that vategory, though he always expected his visitors to do so. There were very few intelligent Cards in the world.

The Corvie didn't linger on the thought gesturing for the man to follow him into his parlor. It wasn't in much better condition than, well, really, than the rest of the property; when he had work in here, he banished his sometimes housekeeper from touching the room. Owen frowned, wondering if the housekeeper had come in the last few days.

This thought, like the earlier one, brushed away quickly. He jabbed a metal talon towards the couch-- a rather hideous affair in of itself-- then moved forward to begin a closer inspection. He held onto the stub with one mechanical foot, moving it one way than the other as he thought and spoke.

"How much you're paying will determine what sort of materials I'm willing to put into your arm," the sparrow snapped. "How did you lose this?"

[Dark]

Hadyn wasn't particularly thrilled with being manhandled, but he was familiar enough with Corvies and their complete lack of social graces to know not to argue, as long as the encounter was heading in the direction he wanted.

Still, it wasn't a subject he felt particularly comfortable talking about; thinking about the accident, both leading up to and the aftermath, was a topic best not dwelt on. Regardless of personal comfort, though, he supposed it was a relevant question.

"A bunch of rock and some wood supports fell on my head; I took a splinter through the upper arm and it got infected." He winced as the scientist manipulated what was left of his arm, "And it's still a bit tender."

"As far as material is concerned, I'm looking for something strong, durable and maneuverable, and I'm willing to pay for whatever is suitable. I'll need your recommendation, of course."

[seraaches]

"So it rotted off? You had it amputated? Wot?" The sparrow either did not hear or simply did not care if the inspection hurt the other Card. Nevertheless, he did drop the stump suddenly. The best thing he could think of was to force the nerves to reconnect, and that would be painful; oh, yes, supremely painful to the experiment.

"How's your pain tolerance?" he asked instead, doing a quick mental inventory of his metals on hand. If Hadyn was paying attention, this should give him a clue as to just how painful the process would be.

He actually had quite a bit of his newest alloy, a metal that was a great deal like his own legs, actually. But he'd made it for the purpose of working on his prototype wings, not on some idiot's missing arm. But if he was paid well enough. . . . he could see his way to sacrificing this batch for a less worthy cause. And it would give him a chance to make some adjustments to the wing mixture.

[Dark]

Hadyn swallowed a sigh of relief at being released, and focused on the question. "It was amputated after--uh, after it started to rot. They removed it above the infection." He felt somewhat odd, talking about his injury in such a detached and scientific manner, but in some regards it helped. Focusing on the specifics helped him keep himself distanced from the emotional baggage that came along with the injury, and kept him moving towards the goal: getting his arm fixed, and getting his life sorted.

"Pain tolerance?" He was a little leery at what the question was precursor to, but--whatever it took, he supposed. "Fairly high." It wasn't pain that was his problem--it had never stopped him before--it was a disturbing habit of falling into deep, abiding depression whenever his life got the slightest bit fucked up. He really needed to work on that; but first he needed to fix the missing-limb problem, so he could properly strangle a certain jerkwad he knew.

[seraaches]

"Fine," the bird answered, his tone almost dismissive. "I want three days to draw up plans. The metal will be expensive; it's my own alloy, as light and strong as these." He tapped one of his toes pointedly on the floor before Hadyn. He quoted a price, an extravagant price, but really not much less than he normally would charge for his metals. He held their secrets quite close to his chest. "The cost for my labour is twice that; my time is valuable and I have several projects already in the offing that I must put on hold for this one." Owen began striding towards the door, evidently expecting Hadyn to follow because he continued speaking without pause. "You will not jack with my work, and you will not allow anyone to cut it back open. If you ever need repairs, which you shouldn't--" The look he sent over his shoulder was severe. "You will return to me, none of those other quacks who claim to know mechanics. This will be a functioning work of art, and I will not have my work tainted by the touch of an inferior craftsman. Come back in three days. I'll begin work for you then." They were at the door and Owen walked back towards his lab, obviously dismissing the feline mix and expecting him to leave.