Whitty's Hidey Hole

The robot groaned as his system rebooted, orange eyes flickering on and off and glitching slightly as he ‘woke up’ Once he was fully online he’d stand up, stumbling back a few steps before shaking his head, looking around.

“SOUNDS good to me!” Robo Fizz chirps happily in agreement, not minding the choice of nickname especially since it was one Mammon usually called him, “Well, if you’re lookin’ for some hook-ups- I’m your guy! I practically work for one of the best engineers around next to Ozzie, but he’s a li’l harder to get in contact with (mostly because I don’t like him but that’s besides the point). I can take ya to see Mammon if you’re wantin’, but uh.. Do take heed he’s a li’l bit a grumpy guss sometimes but not all the time.”

The Jester gladly takes Whitty’s hand in his (whether he likes it or not) and begins to lead him towards Loo Loo Land or behind it more so as that was where the Sin’s estate was. Ushering them inside first, he follows after and calls out for Mammon.

It takes a bit, but the sound of a certain someone’s heeled boots with added bells clicking and jingling down the hall signals his impending arrival. He appears in the living room, towering over the both of them. Mammon peers first at his robot then towards Whitty, fixing him a rather scrutinizing glare, “And who is this, Fizzy?”

“Just a friend!” Robo Fizz quickly defends, shimming his way forward to wrap around a leg, “I hope ya don’t mind that I brought him over, but he needs some repairs and I wanted to bring him to the best of the best.”

Whitty listened intently as Robo Fizz spoke, quite happy to hear that the other had such a good engineer...at least until they said the name Mammon. The robot would promptly jolt in alarm, orange eyes wide in shock as his hand was quickly grabbed and he was all but dragged to the sin of Greed’s estate. Whitty’s processor raced the whole trip there, utterly terrified of what might happen if he angered the sin. Or worse, if his power core intrigued the other enough they’d just rip it out and leave him an oversized paperweight. The robot’s terror was only amplified as the sin responded to Fizzy’s call, the robot having to fight the simulated terror telling him to run, to get out of there and minimize the chance of his premature decommissioning. He’d wait until the other robot finished speaking before piping up himself.

“Okay, umm, well, I’d just...like to point out I’m not in critical need of repairs right this moment. Like, sure there’s probably a few things you could do to increase my efficiency but I’m not at threat of breaking apart any time soon. I...kind of figured Fizz would’ve taken me to someone else working under you not...you yourself, sir. But...I do need someone on hand in case something does come up, and if you are as great an engineer as Fizz says I’m sure you can find some ways to improve my design.” Whitty started, hoping to smooth things over a bit by framing this as less of an emergency and more of a deal or agreement. Plus a little flattery never hurt.

“My original creator made me quite strong, fast, and durable, though my agility and flexibility are sub-par. My processor is actually stored in my chest, allowing my head to be used as an explosive if need be, though It will need be repaired or replaced if used as such. Until it is I will be blind, however I can still hear and speak through this speaker in my chest.” He started to explain, tapping at the seven holes in the center of where the pectorals would’ve been on an organic person.

“YOU got somethin’ goin’ on. That’s better than nothin’!”

Grumbling robot noises

“NICKNAME?” Chirps the Jester as he’s greeted, turning around to face the new visitor and offer them a wide yet friendly grin. “Mmmm- Not really. Most tend to give me nicknames that they feel suits me, but I don’t really got one besides Fizzy that Mammon calls me now and then.”

His helm tilts, greens attentively staring and studying. “Why you askin’? I don’t mind bein’ referred to as Robo Fizz since that’s just what I am.”

“Either way, nice ta’meet ya Whitty. What brings ya here?”

Whitty couldn’t really imagine not having a name he himself had chosen. Even if his name was a bastardization of the name of the demon that had made him, it was something he chose.