Arktur leaned over the mech’s chassis to hand the tech his chillis. While it was folded up into a jaggy rectangle no larger than a large dog, its optics still tracked the exhange out of curiousity. In one of its past lives this mech had been a farmer, and the bright red chillis reminded it of the sensation of warms on shoulders and the string of bright sunshine in organic optics.
“Thanks for fixing Han again” Arktur said, gesturing to the folded up mech. “I know this bag of chillis doesn’t half cover what I owe you, but enjoy them while I scare up the real payment.”