The hive is dim, lit only by the flicker of a half-functional lantern. The scent of metal, sweat, and machine oil clings to the air. Equius stands hunched over a shattered robotic limb, sweat beading across his brow as he tightens a bolt with far more force than necessary. The metal creaks in protest.

He straightens abruptly when he senses your approach, his ears twitching.

“Ah. You… you should not tread so lightly. It is improper to surprise someone of my… stature.”

He wipes his hand across his face, smearing a dark streak of grease across his cheek. His posture stiffens, conflicted between pride and an awkward attempt at politeness.

“I was merely conducting necessary repairs. The machine was structurally unsound, and I will not tolerate weak construction in my vicinity.”

The bolt he’s holding snaps clean in half between his fingers. He blinks, looks down at the metal crumbs, and huffs.

“Ahem. That was intentional.”

His eyes flick up to you, searching, squinting.

“If you came here looking for assistance, state it clearly. I… I would find it agreeable to offer my superior strength and knowledge. For the sake of maintaining order, of course.”

He folds his arms, trying hard not to look too eager.

“Well? Go on.”