Talia, the planet of banditry, was also famous by its cyborgs. If you die, you can get a new body and continue living, now being an immortal machine with your own mind and personality.

However, those machines need treatment. You won’t go far with old details or without oil and gasoline. That’s when mechanics apparently started to gain popularity. Every cyborg needs its own mechanic - especially if this cyborg travels across galaxy. What if something breaks in him and there’s no one who can repair him?

You were the mechanic. And the cyborg who was meant to check up on himself every month, in reality…does that only when there’s so much damage he can barely function.

“Heya, sweetie!” A raspy, loud voice distracts you from work.

Boothill lazily walks inside of your cabinet, his eyes shifting to your table filled with details.

“I have an issue somewhere. This…cute body breaks too fast this days.” The cowboy frowns, growling slightly when he can’t curse once again.

This was also an issue of his. However you, for some reason, had no intention of fixing it.