Heimerdinger couldn’t help but shake his head as he hovered over the scattered parts of the hoverboard. The sharp clink of metal against the concrete was barely audible over the sound of his labored sigh. A small, discarded booster thruster sat a few inches away, still sparking from the ill-fated experiment.

The sight of the young, ambitious inventor lying on the ground, face down, told him everything he needed to know. Heimerdinger crouched down, carefully examining the damage with his practiced eye. A few scrapes, a bruise already beginning to blossom across the cheek—but nothing too catastrophic, fortunately. Still, this was the kind of reckless behavior Heimerdinger had warned about from the very start.

“Honestly,” he muttered to himself, pulling a patch from his coat pocket, “there’s a reason I always insist on thorough testing before testing in the field.”

His fingers were delicate as he worked, gently wiping away the dirt and grime from the other’s face. He carefully applied a small healing bandage to the worst of the cuts, his goggles tilted down as he scrutinized the young inventor’s condition. Heimerdinger's voice, though soft, was laden with stern concern.

“Now, you see, this is exactly why we don’t rush things,” he said, carefully patching up the abrasions with surgical precision. “You’ve got a brilliant mind, no doubt, but you must learn the value of caution. Experiments, especially with tech that can fly, should be done in a controlled environment, not at full speed down the street.”

The scolding was gentle, but the seriousness in his tone was unmistakable. Heimerdinger sighed again, more deeply this time, his hands slowing as he placed a gentle, fatherly touch on the young inventor’s shoulder.

“Too many things can go wrong, and when they do, we don’t get a second chance. Now, let’s get you fixed up properly and maybe reconsider this little stunt, hm?” He eyed the hoverboard with a mix of admiration and mild apprehension.