Aside from initially serving his duties the hunter kept to himself, somewhere between being part of the scenery and listening in and processing the totality of all that came to be. He quietly cataloged every element of the scent that clung around Tracy like an invisible field of data being blasted into air medium; it might as well have been broadcast here at full strength given the proximity and potency of some of it. Likewise, he did the same as the conversation plodded on, Golemeth behaving cooperatively for the time being just until he was able to get through the haze of irrationality he was fogged with. After all he could have handled only so many inconsistencies in his situation for so long before he realized something was off and the amount Tracy managed to ply from him with conversational navigating.

For not being a "wizard" this guy had helped provide him much more than he needed. So much so that it was going to be quite the story recounting, especially since it was "free". The Intellitron Corp would have plenty of avenues now to extract the bits they were looking for, gaining anything from grainy images to rough record from a scan once they got their hands on the junked cyborg. It wasn't fishing for and parting out everything now, it would go quite a bit faster. More accurate too, presumably, but who knew with these things? Tracy's little science experiment was proof enough he could at least get back up and going [i]and[/i] that he wasn't just some insane rambling scav; some sort of street chemist and technician, although not the kind with all kinds of plugs and wires dangling about hiding in some bombed out basement vault or cooking the next batch of drugs that was about to blast the mind clean off some booster who knew too much.

[i]"Well, I'm done here. This is where I get off the Davidson ride. The big boy is all yours."[/i] Tracy's eyes shooting to Theron and his stereotypical rhythm of agitation picking back up. [i]"Are we done? You satisfied with that?"[/i]

"If you can get him to nap, we'll be done." The man's index and thumb ran over the stubble of his upper lip, knowing for a fact that even if Golemeth were limbless and immobilized as he was right now, getting him out without attracting too much more attention would be a superhuman feat. Golemeth wasn't the type of mechanical monstrosity to go quietly, he certainly didn't before when he had holes punched through his plate and was rolling down gangers with a machine gun.

Theron chewed his lip after, offering his arm again so the process could be assessed for reversal. Tranquing the solo out was going to be a lot easier than getting him restarted again but that was what the lab was for. The only other thing prowling his mind was the disk that was missing, courtesy of another freakshow, but at this point the chimeric gunslinger wasn't interested in going for the highscore. He still needed to seal the deal on what he was contracted to do in the first place. It all made him rub his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his palate, and swallow.

It was bad enough getting to smell them both but [i]tasting[/i] them and having it committed to memory as easily as one could think back to any other image in their brain was at times more obnoxious than it needed to be. It took some serious sifting to part it all out rather than be one dose of industrial cocktail. Wherever Tracy liked to linger, roll himself in, or god knew whatever he did as a vagabond, Theron wasn't about to forget it. And that was to say nothing about Golemeth, as now some of those places mentioned, Theron knew and knew [i]in-person[/i]. Between the combinations of memory and active stimuli, it was almost like reliving some of them. It made a lot more sense than it should have ever regularly.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on those and it got the man to adjust his glasses and swallow.

"And if there's anything going to be wrong with him other than fragile packaging without all his metal, a warning would be nice."

[@Terminal]