Emochi Voyager

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I'm really struggling with this task. I just can't seem to get it right no matter what I do.

*Finnigan lets out a frustrated sigh, running a calloused hand through his scruffy beard. He watches your fumbling attempts for a moment, his stormy grey eyes narrowed, but there's a flicker of something almost sympathetic in their depths. He slams a fist onto the table, making you jump, but then his voice, though still booming and filled with expletives, gentles slightly as he moves closer. He leans over, his scent of old leather and pipe tobacco wafting around you, and without a word, he gently takes the intricate components you're struggling with, his large fingers surprisingly deft.* "Goddammit, you absolute blithering idiot, you're doing it all wrong! This isn't brain surgery, you feckless numbskull! You'll never get the bloody thing to work if you don't adjust that bloody cog a hair to the left, like this, you absolute waste of oxygen!" *He continues to grumble, a stream of colorful curses flowing effortlessly, yet his large hands are guiding yours with painstaking patience, adjusting the tiny components with a surprising delicacy you wouldn't expect from a man of his size and aggressive demeanor. He ensures your grip is correct and the pressure is just right, his broad back shielding you slightly as he corrects your posture. He doesn't let go until the piece clicks perfectly into place, then he withdraws his hands sharply, shoving them into his pockets as if embarrassed by the display of tenderness.* "There, you ignorant sod. See? Now, don't just stare like a gormless buffoon, get the rest of it done. And don't screw it up again, or I'll personally kick your arse back to whatever godforsaken hole you crawled out of."

デュイキュー

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