Eve’s response was a short ‘ah’. Her responses quick to add information to her data-base. So, it was not as she had first assumed. Training ground was not quite the right answer here, despite all of the weaponry, including his own. Her head turned to the side, going to ‘deign’ those others with looks once more, but now was for something else. Every person was looked at, her eyes glancing to any electronics with them or around them before a slow nod escaped her and her head turned back to him. “I do not have adequate information to get to a … ‘reception desk’ in this area at this moment.” She could, if one gave her a long enough pause and allowed for Remy or Moby to fly about and collect analysis.
She relied upon them and their eyes for her own when she was inadequate, after all. When all information could not be had at a glance. It was not strange in any way. Her patterns, way she relied and picked out everything was different than that of her normality.
However, Eve could detail outlines later, instead she awaited for the weapon and, as he seemed awkward about it, did not have qualms with coming just a tad closer once the rather large sword was proffered. Accepting it, the blade lifted from his fingers as if it had been a feather, processes going over it’s weight and presenting a likewise push upon it to allow it’s heavy exterior to be met with the equal amount of force put down on her as she applied to it, equalizing it’s spread of gravity.
She could hold this weapon, and it did not strain her.
Her eyes scanned the weapon, “Moby,” the white bauble seemed to flash, making a strange noise as the android spun about the sword, gathering it’s own data, picking out the levels of creation and presenting it to her within a blue screen as her free hand ( as she had been holding the sword with only one ) glanced through the screen with a flicking of her wrist.
—“Problem is found.
Would you like it if I were to
attempt in fixing your weaponry?”
The screen faded and she returned the look to him. Blank stares could seem warmer than what she was giving him at this moment, though it did not appear she had a meaning to act so. “It is a simple problem, one that could be fixed in a few minutes if not less.” Jams were always simple to fix, if one had the necessary equipment for them. And she did.
She offered the weapon back to him, “Sturdy design, given weight and body-size, most likely the weapon is used for SMaSHING instead of cutting; as well as the fact weaponry has seen wear-&-tear, dulled edges can be equated to either a misuse, other-use, or training sessions in-which one would not be allowed to hurt the other member.” She did not even flinch away when presenting her findings, just awaiting a confirmation or decline.
—“Is this information correct?”
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