The mousy woman blinked once, twice, and then gave her head a small shake. The condescending tone in which the tank spoke seemed to startle Rayleigh from her reverie, shattering the shock-induced trance. A frown played about the corners of her lips.

But a small voice in the back of her mind (still her own, thankfully), cautioned her. Remember how absurd this whole situation is, the voice continued, bemused. Tanks really should not be speaking at all. So, if they were a bit rude, perhaps that could be forgiven. Even when considering Ray's skills as a mechanic, she was woefully unprepared and unqualified to pass judgment on a culture she was never exposed to. Perhaps this attitude was typical of tanks. As her father had taught her, if she planned to work with various types of people, she had to be tolerant. Vincent had stressed that this same lesson could be applied to world travel. Because the brunette wanted nothing more than to see Althanas in its entirety, she allowed shock to melt into anger, and then cool into a sickly sweet politeness.

"Tankita," she began, a part of her appreciating the clever title, "I don't entirely know what you mean by 'metal doctor.' It is not really a term we use around here." She loosed a small shrug, and gestured helplessly with her hands, but the motion was mostly loss to the night's darkness. "But if you've been damaged, depending on the severity, I would be happy to give it a look. I'm a mechanic, based out of Alerar, but I'm traveling now."