Stark Industries, Wednesday, 1/22
Victor was still exhausted from the fire drill when he got to the shop. He sat at a workbench, trying to make the pieces of a broken boombox fit together correctly. (Though what he really wanted to know was who even used boomboxes anymore -- the '90s called, and they want their technology back.)
He was midway through fitting the dinosaur with a new disc drive motor when he heard Jarvis say -- as if from far away -- "There are tic-tacs, Mr. Durden."
"You commenting on my breath, Jarvis?" Victor asked the speaker, eyebrows raised.
"I was not," Jarvis said, and paused -- presumably to analyze the air. "Your breath is fine, Mr. Mancha. Just a touch metallic."
"Ha-ha," Victor muttered sardonically, and went back to his work. Spending more time bantering with a robot butler was not going to improve his day.
[OOC: Open shop, no OCD.]
He was midway through fitting the dinosaur with a new disc drive motor when he heard Jarvis say -- as if from far away -- "There are tic-tacs, Mr. Durden."
"You commenting on my breath, Jarvis?" Victor asked the speaker, eyebrows raised.
"I was not," Jarvis said, and paused -- presumably to analyze the air. "Your breath is fine, Mr. Mancha. Just a touch metallic."
"Ha-ha," Victor muttered sardonically, and went back to his work. Spending more time bantering with a robot butler was not going to improve his day.
[OOC: Open shop, no OCD.]