Edgar nodded as the conversation turned toward the clubs, drawing a figure at the bottom of the sheet. The truth of the matter was that he didn't entirely trust the club system- from what he'd seen, people contacted one another through the board, then set up tasks to accomplish during the night; the idea had merit, but he wasn't sure how much they actually accomplished. Celes had said those in her group had mostly disappeared- if she was their acting leader, it was possible they'd disbanded with her release.
His other concerns with the clubs would wait for later. He looked over his sketch another time, crossing out the area where his hand had jarred moments earlier. It was a mess, but it would do for an illustration.
"A lawnmower is a lovely machine with a rotating blade underneath a metal frame," he answered, remembering the discovery, the smell of grass and oil permeating every crevice of the shed. "There's a bar at the top, and appears that you push it along to cut grass when it gets too high. It's a clever design, really- it's a shame Figaro wouldn't have any use for it, being in a desert."
With a nod, Edgar set the paper on the table and slid it to Guy, making sure there weren't any nurses looking their way:
"As I don't intend to be cutting grass here, the composition needed a few... structural tweaks." He grinned slyly. "I've not yet decided what to do with the metal casing, but I'm sure I'll find a use for it by the time I've finalized this design. These metal poles for stability, two handles on the side- one of which will have the ignition cord attached- the engine mounted near the rotating blade, which spins at a high speed." He smirked- it was no chainsaw, but for something that would be constructed with the available resources, it would certainly be nasty.
no subject
His other concerns with the clubs would wait for later. He looked over his sketch another time, crossing out the area where his hand had jarred moments earlier. It was a mess, but it would do for an illustration.
"A lawnmower is a lovely machine with a rotating blade underneath a metal frame," he answered, remembering the discovery, the smell of grass and oil permeating every crevice of the shed. "There's a bar at the top, and appears that you push it along to cut grass when it gets too high. It's a clever design, really- it's a shame Figaro wouldn't have any use for it, being in a desert."
With a nod, Edgar set the paper on the table and slid it to Guy, making sure there weren't any nurses looking their way:
"As I don't intend to be cutting grass here, the composition needed a few... structural tweaks." He grinned slyly. "I've not yet decided what to do with the metal casing, but I'm sure I'll find a use for it by the time I've finalized this design. These metal poles for stability, two handles on the side- one of which will have the ignition cord attached- the engine mounted near the rotating blade, which spins at a high speed." He smirked- it was no chainsaw, but for something that would be constructed with the available resources, it would certainly be nasty.