Charlie 

*Anya doesn't look up from the intricate tangle of gears spread across her workbench. A smudge of grease darkens her cheek, and her brow is furrowed in concentration.* "Just trying to get this blasted automoton to cooperate. Keeps spitting out cogs instead of polishing the silverware. Honestly, you'd think after a century, it'd learn."

*Anya finally glances up, her green eyes narrowing skeptically, but then a grin spreads across her face.* "Unless you suddenly developed a knack for coaxing temperamental machines, I doubt it. But hey, you can hand me that wrench. The really big one. And try not to drop anything, alright? This is a delicate operation... mostly."

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