[center][color=crimson][h2]R O N I N[/h2][/color][/center]
[hr]
It was a beautiful sword even before he'd gotten his hands on it. Black blade, with a golden sheen to the edge. Expertly crafted. Perfectly balanced. Some would say he'd ruined it, with what he'd done to it. He scoffed to himself, as he picked up a small, delicate-looking tool. He'd improved it, in both form and function, after he'd stolen it. One only had to look at his records to see the truth of that. With a quick few turns of the driver-like tool in his hand, his maintenance was complete. He held Himawari up to his gaze, appraising and scrutinizing his work. He hummed in thought. 

[color=crimson][i]...Looks good to me,[/i][/color] he thought to himself. His instincts were generally good in regards to his sword. Without another word, he sheathed it, promptly and smoothly, before looking over at the Black Hawk armor, rolling his shoulders as he stood up straight for the first time in at least an hour. He grumbled low in his throat as he worked out all the pops and kinks that had accumulated.

[color=crimson][i]A proper maintenance rig might be worth looking into, at this rate. Might be getting too old to hunch over a workbench anymore.[/i][/color]

It wasn't as though he was decrepit. Good genes, a few procedures, and a good exercise regimen kept him looking like a much younger man, despite his hair. But at the same time, it couldn't be too healthy to stay bent at 45 degrees over his sword. Still, it was hard to trust anyone, or anything else with his darlings. A robot would probably just scuff the paint or worse. He sighed- he'd think about it later. Right now... he cast an appraising eye over his armor. Then at the doorway to the armory. Then back again. He could just keep going, but...

[b][i]S N A R L[/i][/b]

...His stomach protested loudly enough to that avenue that he couldn't deny it.

[color=crimson]"Fuck it,"[/color] he muttered to himself. [color=crimson]"Been a while since I had a break."[/color] He headed toward the door to the armory, intending first on the latrine to wash his hands, then to the kitchen to get some food and probably a drink. He'd have plenty of time to work after he'd been fed.