aefenglom | Audio; UN: username

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For those that might be interested, I have through considerable effort figured out how to tweak these devices into allowing the display of color video and images beyond sepia.

[There is a steady tap tap tap, like a claw on metal.]

Which I would demonstrate, save that this is a physical change to the device and requires me to put in several very small items to function. Thus if you have interest in seeing each other in color, I can be found at the Second Time's The Charm shop, which sells these communicators, for the next several days. Make an appointment. As I am generous, I will not charge for my considerable time and efforts in this, though I will not refuse donations. You will have to turn your device over to me for a bell or so, there's no way around it. If you refuse, you may purchase another, I can update that one, and you may turn in your old one for recycling.

Technically I can't refuse anyone who asks for my aid. But if you are rude, violent, or otherwise not on good behavior something unpleasant may happen to your device while my talons are in its guts. Try to at least feign civility.

[OOC: The first watch update is here, IN LIVING COLOR. Lahabrea absolutely must get his hands on a watch in order to upgrade it. While this interaction can be handwaved!! you may also come visit Lahabrea and have it done in person for delicious CR! He won't refuse anyone, and he'll take into account rude people at least making an effort at being polite. Upgrades are freeeee! Make an appointment (in this thread or inboxes or etc I don't mind~) and come get your color upgrade!

Although he didn't mention it in this notice, he's willing to teach others how to do this as well, so other people can do upgrades! If you're interested, find an excuse to ask him! I welcome any and all assistance; the more hands I get the faster I can do future upgrades too!]

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[There are legs, as promised.

There are legs that proudly announce the presence of their owner, as Mettaton EX throws open the door of the cozy, colorful establishment. A robot in all of his colorful splendor, wearing a pair of intricately-designed red-and-black heels. Each step has them clicking loudly, even if Mettaton's not opening his mouth.

Really, there's no connection between required voices or volumes between his bodies. Mettaton just has his preferences.

Easing the door shut behind him, Mettaton commands attention by virtue of having such a massive presence as the towering Puca has to keep his tall ears in check just to keep from hitting ceiling. But Mettaton's eye's on Lahabrea in an instant, scanning the sight of his workspace for information.]

Yoo-hoo! Lahabrea, darling. There you are.

[The peace and quiet is shattered. Mettaton crosses the floor, throwing himself into a seat before Lahabrea's work table. If there is no seat, why, Mettaton will grab one and drag it there.

With his eye saucer-wide, Mettaton marvels at the intricacies laid before the Dragon upon the table, ignoring Lahabrea's fashion choices for the moment. Every sciencey person he's ever met, besides Nico, has been Like This.]

Oh my. I had no idea you were so mechanically inclined! [Mettaton leans, his ears leaning with him—though with all of Lahabrea's thorough lighting, they do nothing to eclipse anything. They would, if there were only one overhead light.] You wouldn't happen to work on robots too, would you?

[On the dubious bright side, this shop, like many others, is measured to dragon sizing for convenience of customers; Mettaton's not going to strike his ears on the overhead lighting and get himself a jolt or singed on hot lights, for as much as that's worth. Lahabrea, now over eight feet tall due to his changes if he bothered to stand up, did not pick a shop that would have him gouging his horns on the ceiling, happily for long sensitive rabbit ears! Unfortunately it does mean the lighting is a bit more ...dramatic ... for someone above average size, casting long and interesting shadows.

The steady click of heels is enough of a warning that Mettaton has arrived. There IS a chair at least, sized for more normal customers, comfortable enough without being TOO inviting and making people linger longer than necessary. It is not particularly elegant or refined, but surely it will do!

The Ascian himself, as Mettaton settles and leans forward, turns one hand palm-up, claws a curved half-cage.]

Watch.

[Hand it over! He's here for a reason, and that's work! Things to do kept him from trying to destroy the city.]

I am not. Nor do I work on robots. The proprietor of this business was kind enough to let me have several watches I could dissect, break and repair at my leisure to understand how they work, in exchange for certain rights once the first wave is complete. It is unlikely you have several duplicate robots lying about that I might destroy and rebuild.

[Oh, the beauty of spacious venues... Not that Mettaton quite notices, just assuming that the world should fit him and not paying mind to it when it fails to. Though when he gets a better look at the Ascian... He's sitting, but Mettaton gets the distinct feeling that of the Dragons he's met, he might only be rivaled by Morgana's formerly-mount, yet-unnamed. No other Mirrorbound Dragon has reached to such heights! Five points for Lahabrea.

Mettaton is a robot and doesn't need comfort.]

Oh. Yes.

[Watch: provided. He pulls it from... ~~hammerspace~~ somewhere, and places it gently in Lahabrea's palm, minding his own well-manicured, meticulously-filed claws in the process. Meanwhile, the idol considers Lahabrea's methods with an air of mild disappointment.]

That's too bad! And you're sure you couldn't manage with just one body, and immense care? [A pity though it is, Mettaton's voice is smooth and light.] I'm running agonizingly low on robot-repairing personnel! Which is to say, I have precisely zero at the moment. Though with his background in magitek, I fully plan to have H- Emet-Selch familiarize himself with my body... more intimately than ever. Ha-ha.

[A playful flutter of his lashes, as any chance to talk about intimacy even when related to robot guts is one he'll take. In either case, it was only a hope. A hope dashed. Mettaton dismisses the matter with a flick of his wrist.]

Not to worry. I'll figure something out, to keep myself in top form!

[Short diversion from Watch Business into Robotics Business: when Mettaton sees a possible opportunity, he'll seize it. But he refocuses his attention on the work table.]

[The watch is immediately flipped over and set down, and a tiny tool picked up. Disassembling always comes first, and it seems the preferred point of doing that isn't removing the face but the back; it's set aside within moments, exposing an entire chaotic network of tiny gears, tinier crystals, and little flickers of magical energy.]

Mayhap. But in truth the way to understand how to repair something, is to understand how to take it apart first. What breaks it, and what repairs it, what is crippling and what is merely.. inconvenient. As there would be no undoing the harm I could cause if there is an error in my efforts, it is best to not practice upon your single vessel. Should you ever find yourself inexplicably in possession of a body double then there is a chance I may be able to assist in ... mechanical repairs. Surely this world has duplication magic; where there's a will, there's a way.

[Not that he seems particularly interested in such a thing, but he might simply out of lack of anything else to do should a second Mettaton actually somehow turn up. How many watches he damaged irreparably in the process of learning how to do the upgrades he starts in on with practiced care, is a very good and possibly ominous answer to how many Mettatons he might need to reach the same level of surety.

A tiny, tiny little crystal is tossed aside in a brief flick of glittering brightness, and then the tiny gears are removed one by one. Tiny bolts, tinier little washers, all set neatly in a row. He glances up, with a faint frown.]

As this may require some time, if you wish to do something else for a bell or so to keep yourself occupied, you may do so.

[Remaining is also perfectly fine, he's going to keep going. There's a lot of stuff packed into this tiny device he needs to tear out first!]

[He's quick to get to work... Mettaton folds his hands in his lap, shoulders squared under those broad triangular guards as he leans forward to watch. For a few moments, at least: Lahabrea moves fast enough for him not to catch quite how the watch is taken apart, exposing the guts of the device for viewing. His golden eye flits from watch to... mechanic, he supposes, looking at him like this. He does it with such fluidity and calm, far from the Dragon he's seen Lahabrea be before. (And he hasn't even seen the extent of it.)

Duplication magic. Lahabrea won't like to hear it. That's why he his smirk curls, and the Puca glances away, his ears doing a cute little twitch. He knows he's making a comment uncalled for.]

Yes. I've gotten intimate with the duplication magic they offer here... Oh-so-intimate.

[He chuckles. Nothing Else Needs To Be Said.

As for whether he'll pursue it further or not, well, it would remain to be seen. For now, he's thinking about what's right before his eyes as the Ascian lines up intricate parts. (Mettaton would be a liar if he said his impish side didn't want to disrupt the whole process... But, that's what self-control is for. It's a good thing this isn't the full moon.)]

In a mirror, once upon a time, [As Mettaton clearly doesn't take up on the offer to do something else for the moment,] I saw Emet-Selch and a friend of his, referring to a dazzling bird as... [He digs in his memory for the phrasing. That part wasn't as important as Mettaton's delight in seeing his Bonded's dynamic and duties at the time; Lahabrea was barely on his radar.] a masterful creation of the Words of Lahabrea. I think it was supposed to have healing powers! Something like that.

[He tilts his head.] Creating things of magic... Is that what you did, long ago?

[By the non-reaction to this saucy declaration, Lahabrea doesn't really care, at all, about Mettaton's sex life and what he does with intimate magic. It's utterly irrelevant if it doesn't directly involve the Ascian himself, which was the only time he bothered to put effort into caring. And whatever happened with these duplicates definitely hadn't involved Lahabrea.]

There you go. Bring me one of your duplicates and I will kill it and take it apart instead of you.

[But if Mettaton can even procure such a thing, he's not listening for a response. There's work to be done, delicate and precise work, and distraction was as bad as loud noises. He's aware the robot is still talking, something about mirrors, but the process of removing things is certainly far, far swifter than putting them back. As soon as only the shell and glass remain, a tiny device that might in any other location be a very small soldering iron is picked up, and a small silvery plate tucked inside. Magic instead of electric apparently, given its lack of cord but the faint smell of ozone anyway as soon as the button in the back is pushed.

The acrid ozone smell gets worse when he puts the tool to actual use, drawing very tiny, barely visible faintly glowing lines into an equally small metal plate.]

This is what I do. [The absent tone of it suggests he'd not really been paying attention, focus almost completely elsewhere. Namely, on getting this thing working the way he wants it to, not an easy task for a thing the size he'd become.] Pray keep distraction to a minimum, I require my focus.

[Mettaton is unsurprised at the arsenal of tools, though it did him years ago to find them here. It was a blessing, really. It would suck if Aefenglom couldn't even produce tools like these, for him especially... Alphys, though departed, had been here for a long time, and by Mettaton's hassling she had to equip herself without her magic available. As he speaks, Mettaton watches idly.

This. Not very descriptive, Mettaton wants to interject. He crosses his arms, resisting the urge to thump his foot at being ignored... but it's all for a greater cause. He chews on this, just like he chews on the inside of his cheek.]

All right... [His voice comes out stilted and flat, and he glances away, then back to Lahabrea.] Well! I'm not the type to stay still in any sort of silence, I'm sure you've noticed. An hour?

[Mettaton rises from his seat, indicating his intent to leave.]

Unfortunate. You would do well to learn it, as well as this sort of craftsmanship.

[He pauses, tiny tweezers in hand, to regard the Puca with an unreadable expression. Probably due to the goggles, honestly; it can't be helped.

He's willing to do the work, he did open it to everyone. But it required much attention even from him to see it done right. And if Lahabrea can't do it right the first time he shouldn't be bothering at all. He might be doing menial work, but he had standards.

But he's not going to stop Mettaton from leaving for a while either. It is, he supposed, the better decision. He had an unpredictable temper at the best of times, and they got along rather ... poorly. It would at least guarantee the work could be completed without risking disaster.

Lahabrea returns to his work, careful, precise.]

A little less, now. Thank you for granting silence, as much as it may gall you to do it.

[It. Might be sincere.]

[Mettaton gazes down from his stance towering over the watch, eyebrow quirked and ear flicking. Is Lahabrea suggesting he learn how to operate on watches...? Pass! He snorts.

It's not as though he looks down on the work one would put into mechanics or craftsmanship. On the contrary: it's admirable. The sort of thing he'd find himself more inclined toward supporting, rather than doing. Which has him tapping his chin, considering Lahabrea's earlier remark about not refusing donations.....

Food for thought.

At Lahabrea's thanks, Mettaton smiles and nods bouncily. He doesn't take it poorly.]

Of course. Ta-ta for now!

[It would be wise to teach others to perform this particular operation, yes. Mettaton might not be the best candidate to learn... though he knows it's an effort he would support, given that he is expressly interested in what it yields.

With a brisk bounce to his step, the beheeled Puca practically hops out of the shop, its door ringing on his way out.

It's 54 minutes later when Mettaton returns, a completely re-energized bounce to his step. Every time he enters a room, it's best to expect that he'll practically burst into a space to fill it and command it. Which also means that the Ascian's kindly treated to his sweet, loud voice.]

Lahabrea, darling, I'm baaack! And I just remembered! [cutting RIGHT to the chase, without even letting Lahabrea review his work.] You say that this can help us capture color. But without the appropriate upgrades on the other end of the screen, does that mean my viewers will remain in the blah world of sepia?

[By the time Mettaton returns!!!

His watch sits complete and inert on the tabletop, on a bit of folded napkin. Any identifying marks, artwork and inscription have been left precisely as they were; there's no outward visible sign anything has changed at all!

But of course that'll change as soon as it's turned on..

As the puca bursts back in, the Ascian briefly glances up, then returns to picking at a completely different watch.]

Unfortunately, yes. As it is a hardware change, every single one must be manually altered. I have taken the liberty to making a few changes so future potential upgrades are easier to manage, but so long as components must be added, only those who come for such changes may utilize them.

[It would come as a surprise to anyone that Mettaton hasn't done much to his watch as of yet, or else it would have been repulsively noteworthy to start. No, it's rather default... save for the pictures on it, of which there are many. Many, and also absolutely terrible. (For everyone's sake, we can only hope Lahabrea did not rifle through them. Devices aren't password protected, after all: it was left in his hands in good faith, and a bit of carelessness and trust to boot.)

Mettaton slinks back into his seat before Lahabrea's work table. He... readily assumes the one sitting to the side is his, and picks it up between delicate fingers, ears attentive. Powering it to life idly, Mettaton glances up with a quirk of his brow.]

Every single one? You have your work cut out to you. [His brow's furrowed, and a small frown works its way onto his synthetic features. Actually, it's a bit of a pout.] And knowing that lots of our fellow Mirrorbound and citizens alike will squander your generous offer...

[Mettaton clicks his tongue. He is obviously less pleased about this obstacle now that he's had time to digest it rather than bouncing excitedly into getting the upgrade for himself, and his ears lean back irately. The thought that some Mirrorbound would be content to squander the opportunity to see Mettaton in full color is a terrible one.]

Something must be done about that.

Every single one.

[There were problems with that, of course, given how wildly unsocial Lahabrea tends to be and the amount of interaction required to get the job done - not much but still more than none.

The watch acts and looks completely normal! It powers up precisely as it's supposed to, it isn't until camera settings are gotten into that anything seems different at all. There is a single color photograph lurking in Mettaton's most recent photos, of ... the wall. It's not very exciting. But it's not sepia. It's walnut.]

The built-in structure is simply incapable of doing what needs to be done. New watches may have the modifications built in, and there's negotiations in the works to implement such, but I have no way to manage it long distance.

[He frowns. It's not something he much likes.]

Had I the option, I would certainly not be leaving my services at the beck and call of any mortal who deigns dignify my extensive work with a moment's notice.

[Mettaton motions at first as though he's about to get familiar to his newly fixed device, casting his attention down to it and tapping it with his fingers, but it slowly drifts down to his lap as he listens to Lahabrea's woes, both with poor tech and his dissatisfaction with the task. MTT tilts his head, his large ears bobbing with the motion.]

Are you under contract? How come you have no option? [That would make sense. Otherwise yeah, why would Lahabrea be out here doing this like a charity case?] I couldn't help but notice you didn't demand recompense... So, why?

[He's still thinking about how to push this update onto everyone, pushing it with advertisement and charm... But if Lahabrea is reluctant to do it at all, there would have to be a few alterations to that plan.]

The desired outcome has no other method of reaching it. Nothing forces me to comply save my own wishes.

[So why is an Ascian of all people, bothering to help mortals at all? He hated them, he made no secret of it, scorned their weakness and frailty. Everything they did was a point of derision, something to mock at best.

And here he is probably spending countless hours in working on a device of mortal creation, to go back into mortal possession.

He spreads his hands, talons half-sheathed. His smile is anything but pleasant, it has far, far too much fang in it.]

The beast I have been saddled with takes immense satisfaction in knowing that every single life which gains pleasure or joy from seeing a color picture or watching a color video, either in love or in hate, is only by my generosity.

[He sets a small screwdriver down, leaning back a little. He still didn't have his wings. When would he?]

There have been small donations here and there, it helps towards the costs. But a flat fee would render the work labor paid for and thus the customer may do what they wish, for they are paying. But donation.. and offer of free efforts on my part, means if someone so much as twitches in a way I don't like, I will destroy their device outright and they will never gain what they desire.

[That.. definitely sounds like dragon level pride and pettiness.]

[Yes, Mettaton does know the way of Ascians. Helping humans like this seems to be with some end in mind. Hell, even humans operate like this, he knows.

When Lahabrea bares his fangs, Mettaton's expression remains wide and curious. But his ears... Oh, his ears. They rise, alert in his alarm. No matter how he tries, Lahabrea strikes him as a Dragon here, and his Puca-brain associates those teeth too far with a twice-over encounter with possible ruination. But aside from the disobedient ears, his face is collected. One could say it's the beast in him that reacts with fear, natural for a Puca.

Rationally, though, this isn't threatening. Mettaton knows this. And ultimately... he nods after sparing Lahabrea's reason some thought.]

I see. Makes sense! [If Mettaton had it in him to just make these devices do their thing, he'd probably do it for some similarly selfish reason. He shrugs with an arm and a renewed smile of his own, though there's nothing threatening about it.] Whatever satisfies you, sweetheart. Speaking of.

[Mettaton tucks his hand... probably wherever he got the watch from. A folded wad of notes is placed on the table—a generous donation, though he knows well that most Dragons are plenty capable of earning oodles of money just for selling a scale.]

I appreciate it. It's a step in the right direction for this poor, drab city.

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