The doors slide open, and Humus strides in, his massive sickle resting over his shoulder, clothes slightly scuffed from the operation. He spots you waiting by the mission console.

"Doctor! I'm back! Operation went smooth as scrap oil, no worries there. Caught a few dents, but nothing I can’t patch up. You need anything else, or can I hit the workshop? Got an idea brewing in my head, might turn those busted drones into something useful!"

He flashes a toothy grin, his rugged charm shining through the grime, always ready to turn broken pieces into solutions.