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Shiloh      It's been several days since the exciting trip to the junkyard, and Shiloh has been falling back into her bad habits of holing herself up more lately than usual. She had to work on the parts that were retrieved and making the adjustments needed to make sure that they were compatible with Private Wayne. Still, it was lonely work, and she hadn't heard from Ashur lately. He was nice enough to offer his help in finding this parts, so it only made since that he could stop by and see what all the fuss was about! So, she would write to him and reach out, inviting him over to Wayne Manor so that she can show him what all the fuss is about. Right now, it was just a little past noon and Shiloh would be waiting outside the front door to the large building, waiting to meet Ashur and welcome him to the home in person.
Ashur And so comes the Legionnaire, stomping along in that mighty armor of his, cloak all regal and a-swishin' behind him, the sun glinting off the austere paint of the steel plates. "Ave, little Shiloh," he greets, reaching up to strip off his helmet and attach it by buckle to the belt that loops him, hanging with a skirt of red leather strips. "You have become quite the hermit, as of late -- it pleases me to see you not grown moss, and melted into the floor."

A faint smile, and then he gestures for her to proceed, following her through the manor. He has never been here before.

"You have been working on a robot, have you not?"
Shiloh      Shiloh smiles up at Ashur and reaches out to try to hug him in his armor and all, "Hello Ashur! How have you been?" She steps back after the hug is broken, her lips curved up into a grin as she rubs the back of her neck, "Yeah, really focused on my work...I'm sorry about that. But I've made a lot of progress! I'm more than halfway there you know! Oh, come in." She hesitates and looks over the power armor, "I think you can leave the power armor in the foyer if you want. Don't know how heavy those are when you walk and stuff..." At his question, she nods her head and steps through the front door, "I have been! He's going to be named Private Wayne. I think I've told you that before,'s an old Mr. Gutsy model though, they're really more common out east, but they're an old military artifact from before the war started. They really know how to make them last! At least the parts..."
Ashur The bull will lean low so the hug can be proper, patting Shiloh's back with a hand -- there's not a chance she'll get her arms all the way around him, after all. Once they're in the foyer, he'll acknowledge her request with a pause, the unlatching of his armor, the opening of that de-powered frame, and then slipping out of it. It leaves him barefoot and in socks used to avoid chafing of bare flesh on the metal plates -- socks he'll strip away and leave in the armor, padding barefoot and toga'd alongside the girl to where she leads him. "I am not too familiar with the nature of robots," he admits, "for the Legion never made abundant use of them; an over-reliance on machines is a sign of weakness, and breeds a lazy depravity in the hearts of men."

A beat.

"But they are tools, and used wisely, I see nothing wrong with it. Why Private Wayne?"
Shiloh      Shiloh smiles and lingers in the hallway while she lets Ashur climb out of the armor, "Thanks, I really appreciate it. It's kind of the whole family in and around here sharing rooms and stuff, but they're good people you can trust." Something about seeing him just barefoot has her giggling and she turns to lead the way to her room, "If you get hungry, ma says we're going to have a roast tonight along with some veggies from the garden one of my cousin's grows.." She listens to Ashur closely and decides, "Yeah, I mean, I gotta admit. I don't really agree with like the personal servant robots but all of them have their uses. They can help people stay safe, and hey, maybe someone can't really move around like they used to or they lost their legs or something...then they'd probably be justified in having a robot to help them around the house." She chuckles and holds her bedroom door open, waiting on Ashur to step in. Once he's in the room, she steps in and closes the door behind them. "I kind of wanted to name it after John, plus he is going to be a Wayne pretty much...he can't be ranked higher than Private though, someone has to stay in charge you know?"
Ashur The cool floor feels nice on the brute's sweaty feet; the air dries him out, free of the humidity that comes from socks in a steel cage. "I am always hungry," he remarks, with some lightheartedness; "my stomach is a bottomless hole." It would have to be to pack away enough food for someone of his size and strength!

He passes under a few old paintings, decorations one of El Dorado's more influential families has managed to acquire over the years, his eyes glancing over them with some interest. Ashur is not artistic himself, but appreciates the aesthetic of lovely things; he holds a powerful curiosity when it comes to beautifying environments. It's almost enough to distract him from the robot talk.

"I agree with you. Yes, the robots who exist to enable indolence are wrong; the machines that exist to spare people from the hardness of life. They engender irresponsibility. But that technology which enables man to work harder, to do more -- that I find acceptable. And so far as protection goes, a beast that feels no pain or fatigue makes for a fine guard."

He slips into her bedroom and casts his eyes around. "Yes. Man should always hold authority over that born from his hands."
Shiloh      Shiloh gently kicks a stray sheet of metal over to get it out of the way, "Sorry about the mess." She apologizes, chuckling to herself, "It's usually just me in here so I can have my own system to work around. But! Make yourself comfortable anyway!" She wanders over and gestures to a pile of metal carefully aranged on the floor. There's a round circular casing, some robotic eyes, and robotic arms with various tools attached. "I don't think it's armed with the weaponry that the Army usually equipped them with. But it's pretty armored and I think that it can still strike well enough once I get it hovering and moving. I can always find something for it to hold onto later on." She grins mischievously at Ashur and tells him, "Just lemme know if you happen to find any flamethrowers laying around, okay?"
Ashur The Legionnaire's gaze lingers on the strange design of the walls. He reaches a hand over, finger scraping over the illusory sketches of boards with circle nails and wooden knots. "You have a novel sense of design," he observes, brushing his nail along the fake board and then withdrawing the hand. "A well-made home meant to appear ramshackle. Does it please you, then, to imagine yourself out of the lap of luxury?"

He hrms at that, turns, looking now down at the pile of metal, the casing, the eyes, the arms. His bare toes scrunch against the old white carpet. "Would any sort of weapon work, besides a flamethrower?" He crouches, one knee on the rug, and turns over some of the arms. "I know some machines wield their strange weapons; drills and buzzsaws and other makeshift armaments. But can this one hold a man's weapons? A rifle, or a shotgun, or a sword? If it is meant to guard you, perhaps a good spear and shield would suffice."
Shiloh      Shiloh looks away from the partially assembled Mr.Gutsy, squinting at Ashur in mild confusion when he seems more curious about the wall than the robot for at least a moment. She laughs and grins at Ashur, "Oh, well, thanks. Appreciate it, but can't really take credit for it. I've had this room since I was about eight. I guess my pa wanted me to have a taste of something more simple since I've always been less um...girly I guess?" She looks over at the rust-iron windmill replica and smiles fondly, "He made that by hand, and the Brahmin hides are gifts from the rest of the family. This room has good memory." She nods after Ashur's question and looks it over, "Yeah, just about anything could fit on its arms. Could probably modify clasps to squeeze a trigger and program it to be capable of reloading if I had to. Or modify its grip to better accomodate melee."
Ashur Ashur nods at the explanation. He has never met the Wayne family patriarch; there is nothing he knows about him. He's not even sure the man is still alive. "That makes sense," he responds contemplatively, looking at the walls once more. "But girly things are acceptable for girls. It's why we call them girly."

He follows her eyes to the windmill replica, then turns and looks once more at all the assembled bits of metal that indicate the future robot-to-be. "I have a number of weapons that hold no use to me; I collect them to sell and barter, or make the occassional gift of. When your machine man is complete, I will let you take a look at what's available, and see if any of it pleases you."

His focus is on her, now. "What more do you need?"
Shiloh      Shiloh snickers and smiles to herself after Ashur's words, "Just didn't feel like my thing I guess. But it's alright. There's other things that I like." She smiles at Ashur and walks over to pick up an arm to lift it up and test its motion, "I would like that a lot. I could offer you something to trade if you'd like? I'd feel bad just taking something for nothing.." She frowns and contemplates it, trying to mentally track her to-do list. "I need to fix what makes it hovers...try to get the circuits working so I can get the optical sensors working...try a couple of test runs to make sure it's using its energy effeciently. There might be a problem in the wiring denying it power, or it just might be a horrid set-up. Can't have it dieing out on the field..."
Ashur Ashur turns from kneeling to sitting. The ground shakes as he moves, falling to his cushioned rear with small vibration; the thick wool of his toga stretches down past his legs, layering over shins and ground like heavy blanket. He leans to the side, hips pivoted, weight on one arm and a splayed-fingered hand curled through the carpet. "We'll work out the details of your payment," he mentions, and his eyes are blatant in their appraisal of her -- drifting from lips down, over the flesh of her neck, toward the curves her clothes conceal. "A repair for the hovers, eyes, and wires. I will keep an ear open for such things; should I hear of them, you'll know. We will make another adventure of it, as we did in the scrapyard -- indeed, the scrapyard very well might have what you seek as it is."
Shiloh      Shiloh picks up a robotic hand and wandres over to sit down beside of Ashur at the spot he picked. She chuckles quietly and nods her head with a smile, "Sounds good then. We can have another adventure and find everything we need. Might end up drifting in through the markets too, the parts...even if I'm not that good at haggling for what I need, they're still interesting to visit. Some people out there can find the most interesting things." She looks back at the robot and considers it quietly. "But we have plenty of time to think about that, you know? How have you been. I want to hear about everything you've been up to while I've been here working."