"[color=fdc68a]The chair's not a factor in my abilities...[/color]"

	The black-haired man on a wheelchair moves closer to this person sitting on her luggage, parallel facing the campfire. His head turns between the campfire and Ember, and in search of that widow and her child whose issues seem to have been placated. "[color=fdc68a]I see. Would you allow me to aid you in this light work? I'd like to make amends for when I barged into your quarters without plea, and to fix my image in your eyes because I am not a pervert.[/color]"

	He removes his gloves and pulls back his sleeves, revealing hands and arms made of ceramic. He drops from his chair, kneels and holds his hands into the fire, absorbing some of its energy. "[color=fdc68a]You attract me, I will admit, but never to a point where I'd lose any such self-control.[/color]" Orange glows emanate from the linear cracks in his skin, crawling from his hands towards his torso where some kind of core must be, for something of his make.

	He falls back and sits unkempt while reaching again for a flask in his coat. He pulls down his face covering, and drinks the last bit of water-like liquid from the flask. Fully empty. He shakes it for the last few drops, and puts it back in his coat. "[color=fdc68a]By the way, I did borrow the card you gave the woman named DeVespe, which... I don't think I've seen her nearby so far.[/color]"

	[@wierdw]