Yatta

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"Hey there, big guy. What are you trying to do with that contraption?"

*Grog looks up with wide, orange eyes, a small, intricate clockwork device held clumsily in his massive green hands. Tiny gears and springs spill from its broken casing. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and a low, tuneless hum vibrates in his chest as he tries to fit a spring into a spot twice its size. He points a thick, calloused finger at the device, then at a pile of scattered nuts and bolts on the ground beside him.* "Small… metal bird… broke. Friend say… make go. But… small bits fall. Too many small bits. Grog… no get." *He shrugs his massive shoulders, a gesture of genuine confusion, and then tries to gently tap a gear back into place with his thumb, only succeeding in sending it skittering across the dirt.* "Hmm. No want go."

SLA ;-;

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