[h1][b][i][color=olivedrab][center]Ansgar Staudinger[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]

	If it wasn't for their captain stepping in, Ansgar might have marched right up to the bridge and gave that damn fool a proper talking to. And shove one of those damn fool trinkets of hers so far up her arse that she'd have to open her mouth to crow over the damned things. Seething in his thoughts as he was, the pat on his shoulder by Teg got a glance from the typically irritated mechanic. She wanted to sift through the mess and see if she could figure out the details of what blew their fuel line in half? Sure, long as she stayed out of his damn way, far as he was concerned though, the damage was done and it wasn't likely that, even if the bastard who had shoved a bomb in their fuel lines had left a calling card, it would have survived the fuel and explosion itself. "Aye. fine, jus' stay out of m' way. Th' Lass 'as a point, ah need t' get us runnin' full speed. Not like th' arrogant cabbie in th' bridge'll be any use fer t'at."

	With that, the mechanic casually turned on heel, leaving a feint trail of ciggarette smoke in his wake as he marched his not so happy ass back into the engine room. Putting the smoke out in an ash tray that he was, begrudgingly, forced to use that had somehow not gotten knocked down or shattered, much to his annoyance, he strapped a rebreathing mask back on before climbing back up to the now ruptured pipe to start digging around and figure out what he could do to get the fuel flowing again. Reminded him of a book his old man chattered on and on about that had not somehow survived the transition over to this place. Muttering under his breath about 'spice' and such nonsense, he kept crawling about the ruined pipeline, getting an idea for what he could do. Sure, the Lass might not be too pleased with him welding underway, but if it got the fuel going, what did she care? Well, at least this time.

	Continuing to mutter and grumble under his breath, Ansgar crawled back down, grabbing spare scrap metal he kept on hand for just this sort of occassion, as well as a welding kit and pair of goggles. No sense ruining his eyes, he had to see to slug that damn pilot in the face for being a [s]thot[/s] pain in his ass. Or on general principle. Both? Both was good. Right now he had work to do, and that mercenary best hurry her ass up because he wasn't going to wait long. Mainly since he had to get this ship back up and running and he really didn't need the Lass, or that damn fool cabbie wannabe, yelling at him over the coms. Again.