Rustbolt stood up, now TRULY awake. He
brushed himself off and looked at the repairman. “Uh, sorry about that,
little uh… Tar blob.” Furrowing the skin where a brow should be, he
looked over at Marie.

“What’re you doing? Actually, what’re BOTH of you doing?” Rustbolt cautiously altered his footing and pulled out a spatula.

“…Ink,” the Repairman mumbled. “Not tar.”

Both ink and paint sprang back a little as a spatula popped out. They both adjusted to either defend themselves or flee when they saw the zombie’s pose.

“…L-look,” the Repairman finally said, “I’m trying to fix something here! We don’t want any issue…”

Marie cautiously moved forward and held up one of the piles of parts. Maybe that could help out some. Neither of them meant any harm, and this was easy proof.

“…I, uh, couldn’t help but see you dropped these. I hope the way they’re sorted is okay.”