What you need to understand about train crews is that most of them tinker with the engine at some point. What time isn't spent on cleaning, maintenance, the normal chores of living, or scouting and clearing the road ahead, is spent with a diagram in one hand, a welder in the other, and usually a mad glint in somebody's eyes.  Engines bristle with add-ons and cannibalized scraps of the Heart until it's not clear which bits are natural and which bits aren't.

Mister Conagher doesn't like it. The [i]Mighty Natascha[/i] gleams, and nothing is added unless the architect thereof can prove, in simple words, that it is beneficial, necessary, [i]and[/i] reversable. If a train desires a flamethrower, it can communicate such as needed. Anything else is gilding the lily.

Thus far, Coleman has held similar views. What point exists in adding to perfection?

But, as his eyes flit between Sasha and the Wreck... No! His mind rebels at the very thought. Sasha's not old enough to communicate, much less choose.

But there is potential there. A train, capable of shrugging off blows that would cripple lesser engines and make mock of the Flood's threats? He can't help but peer just a little bit closer.

[[b]9[/b] on Look Closely:
-Tell me about Amalgamation. How could it hurt/help me?
-Is something hidden or out of place? If so, what looks suspicious?
-Tell me about the Wreck. What are they doing? What will they do next?

I find out one of these answers the hard way.]