"A heat shield, ya'say?" The man's voice was low and gravely, a rumbling not unlike the machine he tinkered with. "I should think a mechanic with talent like you've got wouldn't need my help with sucha thing." When he finally emerged from behind the metal husk, wiping his blackened hands on an old, red rag, Rayleigh was unsure whether to be flattered or insulted by the comment. His big, blue eyes stared back at her from beneath bushy white eyebrows, waiting for her to make up her mind.

"Yes, well," she began, her hands moving to her hips in a subtle sign of defense, "I am dealing with massive temperatures." Temperatures aided by magic, though she did not feel it necessary to share the fact. "Much, much hotter than anything that I have worked with before." She set her jaw defiantly, her own eyes narrowing a bit as she added, "And it isn't that I necessarily need your help. I just thought you might have some thoughts on the matter. If you don't, I'll just be on my way." It was not an especially long way back to Ettermire, though her desire to walk (and refusal to ride a horse) had lengthened the trip considerably. If she had traveled all this way only to hit a dead end, she would have only wasted a couple of days. Sure, she would be furious, and probably simmer the entire journey back, but she would still storm out if the situation called for it.

The old man observed in silence, as if he could see the gears turning, and read the thoughts that raced through the mousey woman's mind. Finally, he barked a short laugh. "I suppose ya would be too, wouldn't ya?" He grinned at her, chapped lips pulled taut over tobacco-stained teeth. "Well alright, I suppose I could give ya some pointers. I've been at this since 'fore ya parents were born, so I've got a couple lifetimes of knowledge." His grin turned devilish as he added, "and I'm the only mechanic you'll find for miles, so best I make your trip worthwhile."

The brunette sent up a silent prayer to whatever god looked out for the machine folk, and settled atop a stack of tires to hear whatever wisdom he could share.

An hour later, the pair of engineers stood together in the doorway of the shop. The dust kicked up by the warm breeze tickled Rayleigh's senses, and she teetered dangerously close to the edge of a sneeze. A sideways glance revealed that her companion was seemingly unaffected by the dry climate, and so she fought back the urge with a dry, choked swallow. Upon further inspection, Ray noted that the man was staring straight ahead, his gaze fixed on something other than herself. When she followed his line of sight, she loosed a small grunt of confusion. "What kind of elves are those?"

The individuals in question, a pair of men, were engrossed in deep conversation. They were far enough that their voices did not carry, but close enough that their unusual features were evident; their faces were oddly shaped, their skin a rich earthen color, and there was something unusual about their hands.

With a snort that Ray recognized as disgust, the man answered her. "They're no elves."

Blinking, against the dust as much as in confusion, Ray looked back at him. He was reaching up to touch the pointed ends of his own ears, nearly hidden beneath his mop of shaggy white hair. "Are they causing trouble?" she asked, put on edge by his tone.

"No," came his answer, "but they aren't from around here. The one in the white has been here for a span of days, never given us any trouble. He's the quiet type, which is fine." As if only to dispute the statement, the volume of the conversation rose, now filling the otherwise still central square. The fellow mechanic grumbled. "Well, at least he had been."

They watched in silence for a moment longer, each lost in their own thoughts as the scene played out. Only when the smaller individual lashed out at his companion, and sprinted off the other direction, did Rayleigh snap to life. "I'm going to go help," she announced, tightening the strap of her worn leather bag across her shoulder.

With a scowl, the man asked, "why not leave them alone? Figure it's none of our business."

"He might need help," she called back, already jogging after the fleeing figure. Besides, staying out of other peoples' business had never been one of her strengths.