Cyg locks eyes with the guy and immediately has it pegged that he wasn’t planning on actually meeting up with her. Her gaze skips to the pile of junk his Typhlosion is carting around, and her pupils dilated, like a raptor focusing in on a prey item.

“‘Sokay,” she says, more interested in the components and pieces he seems to be absconding with. “Whatcha got there?”

It’s an itch, an irresistible urge to break everything into pieces and find the usable bits. A result of years of poverty survival and a head full of gears where brains were supposed to go.

wolfgang volkov

☉

She listens to him list off things and her eyes tick wider with each component.

“You mean we can just…” she steps in a bit closer to examine things (her voice goes a bit dreamy)-- sees a cluster of wires that she reaches for. She doesn’t try to take them, just drags one finger over their path, turning around the Typhlosion loaded with junk.

“This is-- an old vibroverb kit,” she says, looking for any of the rest of the pieces, “from a Fender amp. And that’s a… set of brake calipers? But from what?”

wolfgang volkov

☉

The guy doesn’t seem as into the pieces of pure treasure he’s found as Cyg is. She is, also, rooting through the stuff he’s found and gathered as a result of his own hard work. A scavenger, scavenging a scavenger. The lowest level of low.

She steps back and puts a respectable amount of distance between herself and his Typhlosion’s armload of quote-unquote junk (Cyg doesn’t think it’s junk, not at all).

“Great,” she says, undeterred by his warning and already making up her mind to blast in there and take whatever she can get her hands on. “That’s what we’re here for, after all, isn’t it?”

She gets the feeling he’s not coming with her, like the mission brief promised.

That was fine.

wolfgang volkov

☉

“Lots of Rotom. Got it.”

She pulls out her phone to power it down pre-emptively before she forgot and ended up with a fucked battery.

“Thanks for the tip.” He was giving her a treasure map to his secret stash. That was either extremely good-hearted, or extremely suspicious.

“Do you have a name, O fairy godfather of abandoned electronics?”

wolfgang volkov

☉

Cyg grinned. He was very cute. If she wasn’t already taken she would definitely climb him like a tree.

"You know, networking,” she said, with a shrug. "We gearheads gotta stick together. Or something like that.”

Wolfgang’s Typhlosion was clearly ready to go.

"I should be good. Have fun, and thanks for the tip.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and headed on towards the job site, ready to bash some Electric type skulls in.

wolfgang volkov

☉