Hands grazing his neck, the tainted and spoiled cloth mask had been adjusted; oil seeping into the cotton. Roy grunted, itching at the mask.

"Wrench.."

He'd fuss, hand clattering inside his toolkit for striking. Roy's eyes widened as he'd knocked over the kit, all the tools pouring onto the bottom of the floor; elevators slamming and falling.

"Oh, fuck me."

Hands threw themselves up, the man taking his leave through the vent he'd entered, dropping into a working elevator.