#engineeringrobotics

Cloud nodded his head at Reeve's words. "I can imagine. Don't know how you do it. I would've just... I dunno, either quit or taped their mouths shut, if not worse." It seemed a bit extreme to suggest downright killing them, but honestly, how did Shinra manage to find all of the worst people and collect them in one place?

"Oh, here's a nice one," he offered, leaning down to pick up a decent sized rock. It had some sharp edges as well, so it'd do some damage.

Leslie sat at the back of the café deep in thought about his upcoming meeting. He looked a little out of place in the Upper Plate establishment, but thankfully he paid for his coffee without any issue and no one paid him any mind. 

He believed in his contacts’ abilities to get his message to the Director of Urban Development, no matter how difficult it would be. Whether the man would actually agree to meet him was another thing entirely. Leslie had set a date and time and arrived early, but had no way of knowing if the man would show up. He wouldn’t take it badly if he didn’t, however. Things were still in chaos following the Sector 7 Platefall, with people scrambling to recover and rebuild. 

Tifa stared at her phone for a few minutes, at a loss for words. It was a good ten minutes before she responded. 

☆ “Ah... Hm.” Parted lips only to close firmly. Soft noises of recognition could be heard, but that was all. A vacancy filled her eyes momentarily, weighing her options. So that’s how it was. Not intentional spying, on the graceful plus side of things. Just happenstance to overhear her. Great. Really. Morally, he’s cleared of all accusations. 

“Give. Give me a second.” Tifa bent down behind the bar and indignantly screamed, muffling it by shoving her head into her knees. She kept going until her eyes felt the dizzying sensation of being out of breath for her to rise up and place hands on her counter once more. 

@engineering-robotics​ asked:  "I am sorry I thought you were a woman when we first met."

There were a lot of things Vincent didn’t understand about Reeve. He was slightly eccentric, even by Vincent’s standards, and the man was fond of his secrets. Not that it was something Vincent desperately wanted to know, as far as he was concerned, he didn’t need to as long as it didn’t put him, or the people around him in danger.

However, when it came to favors of the technical kind, he was Vincent’s preferred contact to get things done. 

“My phone has malfunctioned for some strange reason.”

It might have been all the extreme weather conditions and missions that Vincent frequently took on, but surely that couldn’t be a fact, right?

@engineering-robotics

With the Dewprism out of humanity’s reach - to say nothing of Valen’s puppets - Mel was restless. Her reason for staying so close to Carona was gone at long last, and she’d had just enough taste of adventure that going back to idling around her domain just wasn’t enough.

So, she went digging for her own [relic] - nothing like Valen’s Dewprism or Atenacius’ Book of Cosmos, the Starway was a very simple device; it allowed you to teleport. Not that she couldn’t go from one area to another easily enough, but if you wanted to go walking amongst the stars... well. That was a bit more.

And oh, she wanted very much to see what more was out there. To experience new things. To learn new things. So, she entrusted the Poppul Purrels and more benign trinkets to East Heaven, sealed and guarded her atelier, and set out. She reached, and found a world all but glowing with magic. A polite exchange with its Guardians, and she dropped down into it.

Reeve pulled away, his eyes opening now as he shyly, sheepishly offered Shalua a smile in brief response. At least the young woman did not seem angry with him about the sudden kiss in the middle of a conversation; but he knew that the mechanic would be asking questions. Namely where did this sudden display of romantic affection come from?

Reeve’s hand was still on the side of her face. He didn’t really notice. “What is it?”

Her brain went from white noise to high pitched screeching as it attempted to process what had just happened. A zillion questions were just cascading and looping into each other. Where did this come from? Had there been signs that she’d been missing? She was very good at missing social hints. Should she say something? Should she keep quiet? How did people usually react in such situations? Was she supposed to do anything? What do.

The spot-on symptoms of a server kernel panic. Everything was in deadlock and nothing was responding. 

She hadn’t moved away. She wasn’t sure what to answer, or how to react, so she’d done neither aside from a small motion that indicated she might have wanted to say something. Amid the confusion, there was one certainty, and that was the fact that she may have liked it.