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

Cold, impassive black met warm, amiable grey, and teenaged boy nodded in response. Looked like he'd pulled out exactly what she was looking for, after all. 

[b]"No problem."[/b]

Closing the box up, he shoved it back into its spot on the shelf, loosing a very small grunt, more a [i]hnh[/i], of exertion in doing so. Scooping up his own pieces, he glanced around the room for any more interesting-looking piles. While he did mention having everything he needed with the screen's addition to the contents of his looting, it would also behoove him to have a backup or two, right? Redundancy wasn't always a detriment, especially when it meant options.

Additionally.

He blinked, looking over to the short-haired gunslinger he'd moments ago subjected to his own breed of awkwardity and half an internal monologue. He ought to do right by her as well. Especially since she'd been so forthright with him about him practically needing to be walked through this class step-by-step. It was the least he could do.

[b]"What about you, Cian? Anything you need help finding?"[/b]

Granted, phrasing it like that made it sound more like an obligation to repay a debt than an honest desire to help out...

His sister seemed to have gotten the "straightforward" genes as well as the "height" genes in his family.