It's been a busy few days and it's clearly past time to get some actual rest, but in true Viktor fashion, he seems perfectly content to ignore this fact in the interest of squeezing out a few more hours of work. Still, he looks close to his limit, all trappings of formality gone, shirt rumpled with the top button undone, hair unruly in a way that indicates he's been scrubbing his hands through it, the curls at his temples plastered to his face with the day's sweat. He's got his bad leg, sans brace, stretched out under the worktable, knee locked, his good one lifted higher, heel catching the rung of the stool he sits on. Viktor leans forward into his knee in a way that can't be good for his already-questionable posture.

The screwdriver's in his hand just as he finishes his sentence, and he seems surprised for a moment before he remembers that this is just what it's like, to have Jayce around, and he offers him a tired smile. It occurs to him a second too late that there's a bloody handkerchief sitting on the table, and he reaches out for it with his free hand, trying to slide it back towards him and stuff it in his pocket as subtly as possible.

"I'm almost finished," he says, as if getting to business as quickly as he can will prevent any prying questions. "I may need you to help make a few final adjustments."

Mostly because he can't really reach behind, once he's wearing it. Whatever he's tightening on the assembly makes a clicking noise--Viktor slides a brass buckle on to one of the leather straps and then looks up, eyebrows raised. He can sort of tell this is a segue into something else, but he has to admit that he's intrigued, if not by the proposition, then by Jayce's conversation with Alucard, more generally. Discussing his medical needs with his new friends already, it seems. Viktor's not quite sure what to think about that.

"What did he suggest?"