"Come on, friend, this isn't the time for this."

There was no response; nor did Gregory McCoy expect one. If the object of his attention [i]had[/i] responded, then there most certainly would have been a problem, as he was currently perched on the shoulder of his mobile suit, relatively far above the ground, tinkering with an open panel on the side of its head. He'd made the machine crouch down to make the issue slightly more accessible, but it was still a distinct inconvenience to have to climb his way up from the cockpit in order to make the requisite modifications. The issue was irritatingly simple, but at the same time, frustratingly difficult; the communications array underwent consistent interference every few moments rendering the channel static for a few seconds. He'd already run a full diagnostic of the software aspect, nothing was amiss.

So here he was, squinting at the minute details of the device, searching for something out of error. Wasn't an issue with power; all the power conduits were connected and connected correctly, and he registered no decline in power that corresponded with the issue. Nor could he seem to find fault with the flow of transmission from cockpit to array, so where was it-

There. Once Gregory spotted it, it was impossible to miss; the connection from transmitter to the receiver was loose, and looked more than a little worn down. The sheath for the wiring was largely stripped, and the connector itself was showing its age. Sighing, he connected it properly and closed the panel back up, clambering down into the cockpit and switching on the comm channels. A satisfied grin spread across his face as the chatter came in clearly, though he spent a few minutes listening and running diagnostics, just to make sure the issue had been fixed. Confident that it was, he powered the machine down and returned to the ground, staring back up at it; the Shaldoll Scout, the machine of his own making. Well, not just his own; he'd had assistance. That was fitting, he supposed, as the machine itself was a legacy of what had come before. Parts stretching back all the way to machines decades old, it was only fitting that their original pilot help create their successor.

Nevertheless, it was time to focus on the present. His grandfather was running the booth for him, answering questions of anyone who came by, and making sales. Gregory couldn't think of a better choice for the position, as it both left the booth in capable hands, and left him able to roam about the expo, seeing what had been brought here. [i]Technically[/i], he was here as a civilian; he was reserve forces, after all, and they had enough active soldiers to perform a demonstration. If only barely. That said, he was fully prepared in the event he was needed; big gathering of all sorts of factions, you never knew who might decide it was a good opportunity to attack. Such precautions were only that, however.

What really interested him were the towering titans of iron and steel above him, stretching as far as the eye could see from ground level. Marvels of engineering, and each one unique to its creators. From his vantage point alone, he could see GMs- some variants he hadn't seen before, too, Zakus, BuCUEs, Tierens, and even the odd Jegan or Flag among them. No shortage of things to learn and see.

[i]Do need to look for a new wire for that transmitter, though.[/i] The pilot noted to himself, as he set off to explore the expo. Dimly, he noted the Sandegeist's Rustungs coming up on his right, some simulators further ahead on his left, and a whole stretch of parts vendors from here to eternity. No better place to make some acquisitions, both for personal use, and for the shop.