“ Yeah. Tails. We um. Kind of held him hostage a lot of times. I hope we didn’t super screw him up. ”

The chicken’s eyes lit up momentarily at the mention of a drillish individual, but quickly re-faded.

“ Y-yeah! My little brother! Grounder! That’s who you’re thinking of! I don’t know why he didn’t use his drills more often. I guess one’s more enticed to use a weapon rather than their bare drill-hands, hah. ”

“Eh,” the Repairman replied casually, “don’t worry about it. That’s par for the course for many Toons. I bet you were a decent lackey if you got to do that.”

He looked up, having finally found the clipboard.

“Besides,” he continued, “he’s the mechanic of Sonic’s crew, last I heard.”

He looked down to see his best time. It was then that he realized that he didn’t have a best time; this was the first time he tried timing his travels.

Sheepishly, he tried to make sure Doris didn’t see his mistake as he put the blank paper in his hammerspace.

“Grounder, eh?” the inkblot repeated. He noticed the chicken brighten up, so he figured it’d be nice to remember this name, as well.

“My guess is that other weapons are…” he looked for the right term, “…friendlier than drills.”