Thrust is getting kind of used to the fact that humans stare. He's also aware that this is the sort of stare that means nobody's liable to start shooting. Gibbering, maybe, but it'd probably be the sort of gibbering he could deal with.
"Hey."
The refuelling station is working, now, thanks to Gabriel's advice, and Thrust is just finishing clamping the conversion tank (it is totally a pressure cooker, or was, in a past life) closed over a load of organic whatever, mostly weedy grass and dirt clods.
no subject
"Hey."
The refuelling station is working, now, thanks to Gabriel's advice, and Thrust is just finishing clamping the conversion tank (it is totally a pressure cooker, or was, in a past life) closed over a load of organic whatever, mostly weedy grass and dirt clods.