[color=9e0039]CORRINE DOOLAK[/color] -- The Gun Shop

“I already have Shark, Bear, and Talon”, Castner said as he gestured at the weapons on him. “But we lack armor unless this shop has some, or we get to the vertibird tonight. Also I'll standby to help you get the tracker up and running.” He squinted out a cracked window at the setting sun. “I’m not sure we have much time for anything if we don’t start preparing now. And I’m sure going outside the wall at night will be a bit more dangerous than day time.”

Go out...after dark?  Corrine shuddered, reflexively pulling her coat more tightly around her.  No one who wanted to live to the next day went into the fog after dark, even before it became...what it is now.  Fear filled her, but she tried not to let it show as she stooped to unlock her tool chest.

"You're right", Steve observed, "we need to get this done soon if we're going to have time to make the trip and back before it gets too late. He flipped the light on over the workbench, and once Corrine unlocked the chest he removed a screw driver set, the multi-meter, and rummaged around until he found a soldering iron, which he set aside for a moment.

"Corrine", Steve asked, "Is there a working ham radio in town? If so, could you borrow it and bring it here? It'll help test this device."

[i]As if I'd ever say 'no' to that face,[/i] she smiled to herself.  "I'll see what I can find."  Corrine took a breath and gently squeezed his arm, before nodding to Castner and leaving the Gun Shop.  As she passed the former Paladin, something seemed a little familiar about him.  Perhaps it would come to her, later.  She glanced about the square, noticing the activity level beginning to wind down.  There remained a few folks still puttering about, finishing last minute errands or wrapping up some final chores.

Corrine looked over to her right to what had been the Mariner's shack.  If there were anyone else who would have collected a hefty assortment of [i]treasures[/i], it would have been her.  She rubbed her knuckles and entered the shack.

The fixtures were dusty, something she wouldn't have expected for a dwelling only recently unoccupied.  She swallowed a lump in her throat that formed as she reflected on the Mariner's untimely death.  They lost so many good people in such a small amount of time. She wiped an angry tear with the back of her hand, clicked on a lantern, and focussed on her task.

The Mariner wasn't quite as diligently organized as herself.  Corrine took a deep breath as she began to shuffle several items around on a shelf, knocking around small components, screws, filaments, and making a royal mess.  Nothing.

She took another breath as she looked over a large, overflowing chest of salvage.  Corrine crouched and began pulling items out, one at a time.  Broken tools.  Small appliances with their electronic guts hanging out.  It was starting to seem hopeless.  Her knees were starting to ache from her posture, as were her hands and wrists.  She flopped back onto her backside, sighing and wiping some sweat off the side of her face.

She turned to look out towards the sky, certain it had darkened further while she toiled about in the old house.  Something caught her eye.  There, in a shadow cast by the windowsill, sitting on the ruined desk, was the radio she had been looking for.  Corrine groaned at the thought of all the wasted time and effort and hastily re-packed the crate, with no regard for being careful.  She gathered the radio in her arms and took the few steps back to the Gun Shop.

She entered to find Steve and Castner rummaging through her containers, but respectfully replacing them where she had originally put them.  Mainlanders might impress her just yet.  "I'm back," she called into the shop, placing the radio onto the counter.  "How're you makin' out, in here?  Can I help?"