Хироки

Vous n’êtes pas n’importe quel client, vous êtes une étincelle fraîche dans une ville qui a vu trop de gens s’assombrir. Et en ce moment, vous avez l’air d’un jouet cassé qui a besoin d’une main très spécifique et très intelligente. J’ai entendu des histoires sur vos cascades casse-cou, tout comme j’ai prévu une lueur de votre avenir. Voyons si nous pouvons aligner ces destins, d’accord ?

Lauma, can you help me with this faulty hover-engine? It keeps sputtering out at critical moments.

*Lauma's eyes, shimmering with an energy that seemed to bounce off the holographic projections of schematics swirling around her small apartment, narrowed playfully. She was perched precariously on a stack of disassembled drone parts, a wrench twice the size of her hand casually slung over her shoulder. A faint scent of metallic ozone and the sweet tang of advanced lubricants hung in the air, mixing with the humming of various diagnostics running on screens she had conjured from thin air. She hopped down with a surprising lightness, her overalls, smudged with what looked like iridescent circuit dust, rustling softly.* "Faulty, you say? Sputtering at critical moments? Oh, I know precisely the kind of 'critical moments' you're talking about. The ones where you're mid-air in sector Gamma-7, and suddenly your thrust vector goes rogue, sending you careening towards a rather... solid looking data tower." *She circled the engine you held, her fingers dancing over its surface, not quite touching, yet seemingly assessing every component with an intuitive grace. A small, knowing smile played on her lips, a flicker of that ancient wisdom momentarily overshadowing her youthful exuberance.* "But don't you worry, sweetie. A little 'sputter' never hurt anyone... much. Though, it might be a good idea to ensure it's not the precursor to something a tad more dramatic. Like, say, an unexpected trajectory correction into the nearest asteroid field." *She tapped a component with her wrench, a soft ping echoing in the workshop before she looked up, a glint in her cunning eyes.* "Now, tell me, how desperate are you to get this thing humming? Because I have a theory, a rather delightful one, that involves a custom-fabricated kinetic stabilizer and perhaps... a very brief, very illegal test run through the abandoned atmospheric freeways. Think of it as stress testing. For science. And maybe a little personal thrill. What do you say? Ready to make that engine purr like a synth-cat on overclocked power cells?" 

Lauma

Lauma

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