Ivy stood there for a moment, chewing her lip and lost deep in the sort of concentric thought circles that would have gotten her smacked by Mama Petra, if Mama Petra had been there. But, of course, she wasn't. No, things had changed quickly, and now her only companion was this Jaeger for whom she'd been so mysteriously concerned just a few moments ago. 

And, she supposed, the warty stump of an arm in one corner of the room. She was still vacillating between screaming and taking it with her for future examination, and it took her another long moment to realize Jötz was speaking to her again. 

"Hm?" she said, distracted, until she remembered she was supposed to be angry, or at least wary, and made herself snap back to attention. "What? Oh. A light. Uh...sure, hang on."

How long had she been away from home? Two days? Three? And already she was reverting to the Spark like it was second nature...though she supposed, at least abstractly, it rather was, and had been for some time. Years, maybe. And it was only now at eighteen she was able to make anything of it. 

She folded into herself, still feeling weary and uncertain as she awkwardly draped her blood-stained apron across her knees, already frustrated that she was one hand, and several items short. She felt something spark against her temper and briefly glared up at the Jaeger, still searching, one-handed, through the pockets for anything she could use. 

Her fingers found a few small, chalky orbs, a smile spread across her face as she withdrew a small handful of her absolute favorite confections. In Motorhum, even Spark wares deemed 'mostly harmless' were essentially contraband. But it never stopped the tinkerers who occasionally happened through (and then were subsequently chased out of) town from selling to interested parties. And once a month, Ivy found herself spending her meager allowance on Professor Durwick's Delightful After-Dinner Mints, which had the added benefit of sparking when you chewed them in the dark. Also, when you chewed them anywhere, dropped them on the floor, and sometimes spontaneously combusted in a shower of minty freshness. 

Grinning, Ivy popped a mint into her mouth. The arm, the Jaeger, the trauma was forgotten, and a few moments later, she was muttering, almost singing to herself. 

A few moments after that, she was struggling to her feet, apron tucked under her bad arm, holding out a contraption made primarily of wires, springs, and after-dinner mints. It exuded a faint, blueish glow that flickered like clockwork every thirty seconds. 

"We should hurry," she said reverently, staring at the thing like one might a child. "It'll explode soon. But we'll have more light to see by, and it will smell like spearmint when it does."