[center][h1][color=a36209]Ansgar Staudinger[/color][/h1]

Location: Overwatch Headquarters - Forks; Washington
Interactions: All Present within the Kitchen Area[/center]

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	[i]*...CLANG...CLANG...CLANG...CLANG...*[/i]

	Ansgar Staudinger stood in front of a workbench, hammering away steadily at one of the load bearing components of his life support rig. The vital parts that didn't come off were hooked up to an external power source while he worked on the rest of the rig. Which was, right now, fixing the way the contraption rested on his torso. As of late, it worked fine in armor, but out of it the rig sat poorly. After figuring out the why of the matter, it was mostly how the weight rested on the connection between his arms and torso, he had a way to fix it. Reshape the load bearing portions, coupled with a minor rearrangement of parts, and it should sit better. Still wouldn't help him sleep terribly well, but that was irrelevant anyways. Sighing and wiping the sweat from his brow, he tried to rub the tiredness from his eyes as he looked at the rig. He shook his head before his mind took off again, not worth getting that riled up this early in the morning. Instead he started reassembling the rig, it was a snug fitting thing that fit under his armor, hell, it sat under most clothing too. It took him some time to get the thing put back together, hence why he rarely disassembled it. Was it more comfortable without the whole rig? Absolutely. But he couldn't afford the delay of reassembly.

	Grunting as he torqued the last of the bolts back in place, he set the tools down and tentatively grasped the external power coupling. This part was always one of concern, mainly since if the power didn't switch over to the internals properly, it would hurt like someone had injected liquid metal into his torso. He'd live, but it would be one hell of a way to start the day. Without another thought he disconnected the external power supply, and while there was a brief flash of discomfort, everything ran smoothly. Small miracles, the German thought, as he coiled up the power cable and put away the tools. Taking a few experimental steps and short jumps, he noted that it was setting better now. Good, made daily life a bit easier. With such, he put on his normal attire outside of work. Which was to say, not in his armor. Which meant he still had that black tactical vest that he caught flak for every now and again, alongside black cargo pants and boots. The vest helped conceal the bulk of his life support rig, which he didn't need people prodding at. Besides, it was more comfortable than it looked.

	Winston wasn't the only one with a habit of sleeping too little, Ansgar spent as much time in the gym, usually on the punching bag since weights didn't increase the strength of his arms at all, or working on his gear. He didn't even bother shaving, only taking time to stop by his quarters and take a brief shower so he didn't reek of sweat and machinery. He had that latter smell anyways, the amount of time he spent working on equipment kind of made that a given. The sweaty smell? He could fix that at least. But it did give him a chance to put on a cleaner set of his usual attire, and grab his personal coffee mug, before heading out for the kitchen area. He already knew he wasn't the first one there, and sure enough, it seemed there was a decent number already there upon his arrival. Small miracle he got there in one try, the place still got him lost on an, albeit rare, occasion. Doctor Zeigler, that Lucas fellow, Ms. Striker (which he considered with a mental sigh), and none other than Winston, who stood out like a monkey out of its pen. Which he wouldn't say to the gorilla's face, rude to do that.

	[color=a36209]"Guten Morgen Dr. Zeigler. Mr. Lucas, Ms. Striker, Dr. Winston."[/color] The familiar German accent was clear, despite the tiredness in his eyes, as Ansgar greeted each person present in turn, falling into his native tongue of German for Doctor Zeigler, the rest getting short nods when mentioned. The rest, Winston being referred to as a Doctor out of respect, had been referred to as last names. But Ansgar refused to refer to Lucas by his last name, for reasons older members of Overwatch would likely be aware of, but he didn't speak on the matter. Rather, he walked over to the coffee pot, once Winston was done with it of course since, obviously, he wasn't going to move the scientific gorilla on brute force alone, and poured himself his morning coffee. No additives, nothing of the sort. Before his first sip though, he produced a bottle of multi vitamins, meant for those that had cybernetics, and shook two out of the bottle. He was running low, would have to get another bottle soon. Swallowing the pills, and rinsing them down with coffee, he stepped away from the counter, looking out at nowhere in particular, not taking a seat and not eating either. He didn't eat much these days, maybe one proper meal a day and it certainly was not breakfast. [color=a36209]"What orders of business needs to be done today? Sooner started, sooner finished."[/color]