[Techman. Good god. Palamedes snorts and rolls his eyes, lifting his arms to loop around Viktor's shoulders while he hovers just above him like this. He raises an eyebrow, arched with perfect criticism.]

Techman. I think that's just a regular job a person can have, actually. And— we're thieves, so I'm not sure how heroic we're allowed to call ourselves. There must be a line which shall not be crossed, et cetera; do you think it's petty theft?

[Are we the baddies, etc. Not that Palamedes has ever wavered from the Good end of that particular spectrum, ah, in his life, but let him dream about even more daring and dangerous heists. Fun.

He runs his fingers through Viktor's hair, and he thinks the last of the mirror tension has gone out of him at long last; his gaze isn't so haunted, his touch isn't as desperate. He is... better, and he will not credit puns for that end, but they can have a footnoted acknowledgement.]

You're the engineer; I could make all kinds of fleshy or bone-centric puns for you until you're sick of me, but machines? I don't know. [hm... screw? nail? they're all dirty; engineers are wild.] Metallurgy? You could metal-urge someone to drop their weapons.

[no. don't do this.]