"Oh no, oh no, oh no!" Cyrille opened up the silver plating on the wall and coughed when a cloud of smoke exploded out. Waving his hand in front of his face, he squinted through the fumes. Poking at it gingerly, he retreated quickly when sparks flew form the sputtering machine.
"Oooh, he's going to be so pissed!" Pushing a hand through his dark hair worriedly, he stood and looked around for someone, anyone who could help. But knowing his luck, there was no one around. They were all off searching for the intruder, or helping the Reaper-god that was such a stupid name. Not that he'd tell him-with his 'master plan'.
"But no, Cyrille you have to fix stuff, go do that, go do this, why? No one else wants to, that's why!"

Turning sharply on his heel to head towards his box of tools, he came face to face with an arrow. Loaded in a silver bow. His eyes widened with fear behind his black half mask, and he took a step back. Oh this was the guy. This was the hero everyone was looking for. Looking from side to side again frantically, his heart sank as he realised no one was around.
"I'm not armed! I'm just fixing something, that's all I do! I swear!" He adjusted his sleeves nervously, and cursed the stupid uniforms again. Honestly, a vest and shirt? He looked like a freaking waiter! But of course, there had to be some 'flair'.
"I'm just a henchmen, no one important!"