“I won’t shed any tears stealing from those who kidnapped us. They’re responsible for keeping us here against our will.” Corvo’s logic went like this–the vending machine couldn’t possibly be owned by any of his fellow ‘test subjects’, so it could only be owned by their beloved captors. “But I thank you for being so understanding.”
It would be troublesome to have to fight the local constabulary, after all. He’d just been in a fight, a few hours ago. Even he had a limit as to how many melees he’d enter within a single day.
“I have this.” He held up his knife for the boy to inspect. If either of them were experts on knives–Corvo’s experience with swords was too different to make him a proper judge on the subject–they would’ve discerned that the knife was indeed a very good knife. Thankfully, it was so good that it would probably survive the stresses that Corvo was about to put it through.
Talk was one thing, action another. Taking the boy’s statement as a declaration of his support for their endeavour–illegal as it was—Corvo moved closer to the machine. He jammed his stolen knife into the machine with casual aplomb, grunting softly as he forced the blade deeper into its inner workings.
“A little help would be appreciated.” He glanced back at Slaine for a moment, a meaningful look in his eyes. “There’s a gap there. Pull it and it should come right off.” He paused to examine the machine that he was dismantling with alarming ease, then shot a warning at the young man. “Watch your fingers.”
He wasn’t ever in his right mind to judge, understanding one’s priorities from once they came. Wanting nothing more but to better the systems put in place, even to the needs of those located within the Hive-- he knows the poor must be struggling, counteracting from all he has witnessed. A simple sigh was given to the words the elder spoke, not from annoyance-- simply that he owned no weapon capable of opening this machine in particular.
Now with a knife which entered the fray, eyes come to a sudden close; while feet move swiftly within the circle, eyeing the workings softly as his boots touch the ground. “You should be more careful, even if you are aware of the consequences.” Singly berating for a swift of a second, knowing how foolish it might be if one were to be electrocuted, especially without the food the other so desperately needed.
Resting one knee placidly to the gravel, with his free hand settled comfortably between the metal of the machine-- and the gap which was aforementioned to his prior actions. “I have it,” adding with a short wait, fingers curling between the gap and a short tug later. “... is this what you were after?” Surprisingly it seemed to be going well, as opposed to running this operation to ground-- and suffering the consequences of it not. “I’m capable of juggling the latch for a little while longer.” How longer he was uncertain of, but certain it might be enough time.
