The heavy, lead-lined pre-Fall lockbox hit the damp earth with a dull, heavy thud.
Adonis did not lower his guard. His massive frame remained perfectly still, his crystalline blue eyes locked onto the Southern Warlord. B-02, however, simply dusted off his pristine chrome gauntlets and offered a dramatic, aggrieved sigh as he looked at the half-finished timber shelter.
"I am a patron of the arts, Commander, not a primitive woodsman," B-02 drawled, his velvety voice dripping with aristocratic disdain as he gestured toward the massive pine logs Adonis had painstakingly interlocked. "This structure lacks basic symmetry. It resembles a beaver dam. I cannot fathom why you abandoned the localized luxuries of Tower Zero to play in the mud."
"State your business, B-02," Adonis rumbled, entirely unamused by the critique.
