Prompt 14: Part

 Fredrick took a hesitant sip from the coffee mug, taking a moment to savor the flavor of the contents. Perne gave him an annoyed look as he ummed and ahhed, mockingly deliberating with himself on the results of the thermoboiler's attempt at coffee.

"Not bad," he finally settled on, taking the opportunity to continue drinking.

Perne rolled her eyes, pouring herself a cup. "Next time'm askin' Georgie to help me carry this shite."

After yet another dramatic sip from the cup, Fredrick set the cup on the workbench, filling it back up from the thermoboiler, "There is no way in any of the hells that you're gonna ask Georgie to help you carry any a this stuff."

Taking a sip of her coffee, Perne shook her head in disagreement, "If I don't want my shite criticized I will."

"I know for a fact that you aren't gonna ask Georgie to help you haul six boxes of scrap from Limsa all the way to the Mists."

Perne had set her cup down and was beginning to sift through said boxes of scrap, setting out certain pieces on the workbench to be hammered away at later. "Yeah? An' why's that?"

"'Cause Georgie's barely a yalm tall, and can barely see over these boxes."

Perne didn't honor that with a reply, only offering a short dismissive gesture over her shoulder. She pulled a set of goggles from above the workbench, putting them on as she started to tear at a few pieces of metal. She had seen enough people with eyepatches to walk the docks of Limsa Lominsa to risk taking a flying piece of metal to the eye.

Fred paced the length of the elezen's workshop, admiring a few of the pieces strung up here and there. Unfinished pieces of Garlean armor, magitek, and more. Here a rifle, there a helmet, most of them half-finished at best, and barely started at worse.

"You ever worry about your place getting raided? Maelstrom saw this stuff I feel like they would hang you down in the square."

She snorted, "Nah. I send reports on this shite in so that the Alliance can deal with it better. Got my permit for the lot of it."

"The Maelstrom has permits? Sounds like a lot of paperwork for a bunch of pirates."

"Figure of speech."

He smirked behind the coffee mug, pacing towards the back of the workshop. He craned his neck to see up to the top of the centerpiece of the entire place. The still in-progress set of reaper magitek armor. Large patches of the metal beast were missing, revealing a mishmash of innards, all of them in different states of repair. Some panels look like they could have rolled straight off the line at whatever factory Garlemald used, while others looked as though they had been left out in the woods to be chewed on by a goobbue. Some of them, Fredrick knew for a fact, had been left out in the woods and had been chewed on by a goobbue.

"How's this thing coming along?"

She turned somewhat, looking at the armor. All she could muster about it was a shrug, "Some stuffs working, most stuff isn't."

"Yeah?"

"Tried firing it up the other day, and the legs almost snapped off since the servos got locked up."

"Damn," he said, pacing around it, "Any of these parts for it?"

"That's the plan."

He nodded, and began on the path back through the workshop, stopping at the bench and the thermoboiler again. Perne glanced up from whatever it was she was working on, and looked at the hyur.

"If you put your mitts on that damned thing again, it better be after complimentin' the damned coffee."