[color=9e0039]CORRINE DOOLAK[/color] -- The Hull, Far Harbor

"You're on", Steve grinned with another hug, "What did you have in mind?"

[i]If he isn't the most handsome thing I've seen in a very long time...[/i]

"Come on," she prompted, breaking from their embrace but taking his hand in hers, leading them back down the way they came.  They crossed the cobbles to enter what had been Allen Lee's gun shop.  "The original proprietor of this shop was killed a little while ago," she began.  "He was as loud and stubborn as any harborfolk, but he let me lock my tools up here and use his workbench anytime."  Corrine smiled.  "I'm sure the fact I voluntarily scrapped any weapon he wanted done helped to pay my 'rent.'"

She knelt and pulled a key out from a pant pocket to unlock the metal case and open the lid.  An array of tools sat neatly arranged by type, from pliers, to screwdrivers, wrenches, and more.  The majority were small and meant for fine components, but she had other, general use sized items as well.  They were aged and carried a patina of usage and time, but not a single speck of rust.  Her composure softened at the sight of them.  It was like coming home.

"Now, where was that..." she murmured to herself, standing on her tip-toes and picking through a veritable shelf of junk, her back to Steve and the rest of the room.  "Ah, there we are!"  Corrine reached up with both hands and pulled down a small crate full of screws, circuitry, and plastic housing.  "Took this one apart a week ago or so.  All the pieces are still there, I think," she trailed off, swirling the contents with her finger.  "Hm.  Looks like it.  Anyway, for yer first challenge I'll even give you a hint: it was some sort of pre-war kitchen doodad with a motor."  She smiled and held the crate out to him.  "Have at it, sailor."