"Hm," Shepard looks around; she hasn't got anything to spare, but— like most alleyways, this one isn't completely empty, not really. Here, a washbucket someone had left out here and forgotten. Shepard upends the scummy remnants over the steaming lump, then uses the rag to gingerly pick it up, still hot to the touch, "Good enough."

She offers him a look, rising out of her crouch. There's not much to see; twitchy, broken legs, blackened cogs, cracked glass half missing. It's all slagged into one immobile lump.

"Y'know, I've been thinking about that," She says, cocking her head back the way they came, c'mon, "It's about time we started learning some local tech. Hell, they can call it whatever they want, but if we're gonna be stuck here, we need to use whatever we can get."

And maybe learn a few new ways to calibrate, along the way.