A man geared up in what appears to be a simple construction worker's outfit sits upon a soap box, idly slapping his wrench against the palm of his hand. His hard hat covers the baldness of his head, big black goggles mask his eyes. A red undershirt is engulfed with brown overalls, completed with knee-pads. A coil of rope and a pouch hang loosely from his belt. The Engineer tips up his hard hat, frowning as he glances over at the waste-land of LA.

Well butter my biscuit. Seems like the entire team was gun down faster than one of those skinny city boys trying to mess with my level three sentry.


Look, I'm an engineer. That means I solve problems. Not problems like, "What is beauty?," because that would fall within the purview of your conundrums of 'philosophy'. I solve practical problems. This right here, is a issue of choice.

So, who needs technical support? I promise you I can fix a leak from some chatter box quicker than a chicken peckin' feed.

Overhearing this valiant proclaimation, Lola stops in her tracks and decides to try her luck.

Hmm. I'm not sure about chatterboxes, but I do suffer from leaks quite a lot. Especially when I sneeze, or laugh too hard. Any auggestions? Its costing me a blindin' fortune in ladies' delicates.

The Engineer scratches the top of his hard hat, then snaps his fingers together. He quickly reaches into his rear pocket, withdrawing a fresh handkerchief. He flashes his thumb pointed upwards, offering the cloth to the woman.

There ya go miss. That there should wipe up messes bigger than a two day weekend party at a trailer park. Now, I could erect a dispenser if that don't solve your problem. That little thing of mine can cure you faster than a charge from one of 'em doctors.

Bear with me just a moment, Sir!

Accepting the handkerchief, Lola scoots around the corner and...um...applies it as comfortably as she can. She returns with a shimmy and a shake, forcing a loud cough from her lungs and looks skyward as she ponders the success of McKnighter's efforts.

Yup...yes indeedy...she shimmies again to be doubly sure...not so much as a trickle! Fabulous, Sir. Thankyou ever so much. You might want to consider fashioning more of these, could be quite the business venture!

With a wink, Lola slips a couple of notes into the kind gentleman's hand and saunters off to attend to matters of a dryer nature.

The man in overalls blinks as he's given the notes, muttering something along the lines of how he preferred to be paid in metal. With her departure, he locates his handy dandy guitar and begins to play a soft melody, testing the strings of the instrument.

Y'all take care now then. My business won't be handin' out soft devices. But it'll be open to the public soon enough.