[h2]Luke Schwarz -- Armory Scraproom[/h2]

As always, she seemed to be intent on staring a hole straight through him, arms folded and expectant and pushing her chest up slightly. An imposing sight, yet hour by hour he felt more and more comfortable with it, malleable and adaptive under her piercing gaze. Setting his pieces and bits down onto a free space on the shelf, he turned back to the box he'd been rummaging through previously.

[b]"Binoculars? Okay, then they aren't here either."[/b] he noted, shoving the box back into it's shelf and pulling out the one beside it. Opening it up, he leaned back quickly to avoid the now-expected cloud of dust that burst forth from within, and waved it away with an arm where a moment before had been his nose. Peering in once the air had been sufficiently cleared, he began to dig.

Wires upon wires inhabited this box, a tangled mess of cords of every size, color, and purpose you could name. 

[i]...Even decorative lights? Really?[/i]

Nonetheless, between them and the LEDs scattered about he was almost ready to writ the box off, until he felt something smooth, plastic-y, and round within. Could it be?

He fished the object out into the light.

Caught within a mess of cord was a sturdy old pair of binoculars, as requested.

[b]"There we are."[/b] he said, getting to work on untangling the thing. [b]"Anything else?"[/b]