Dark hair brushed to either side, Torgeir focused on the fuel lines to the large engine that he was installing. Several days had been projected to the customer which apparently was some high-browed Naboo noble and though Torgeir hadn't met the man, the money that he was pouring into this yacht and the choices he made meant he knew what every two-bit salesman had been telling him. Researching no farther than the quarterly that he probably glanced through while waiting to get his manicure had been the foundation for putting these engines in this fine vessel. The more he thought about it the less he cared. Either way, he was getting paid for what he loved to do.

"How long you going to be sleeping under there," the voice echoed from beyond his boots, prompting Torgeir to smile at the fellow technician's sarcasm.

"Just finishing up with your girlfriend, be right out."

A chuckle from several of the other installers echoed through the large engineering area, giving him a moment to relax a bit more as he then reached for the safety wire and then secured the fitting. Once done, he gave one last scan of his work ensuring that everything was in place and looked the way it should. Pushing himself out, sliding across the polished, white floor, Torgeir emerged and sat up, placing his tools into the leather pouch on the right side of his belt.

"Ever going to tell us why you keep that glove on," another human in his early twenties and slightly younger than the Corellian.

Glancing to the black glove tucked underneath his olive green jacket, he mused on the day that he lost his whole left arm while working for the Corellian Engineering Corporation. A company that ruined his life. Steel-blue eyes looked up as he stood, "Already told you," he grinned and moved toward the next engine to finish up. "Saving a kid from a burning building and didn't realize till after that my hand was all messed up."

"There's this new fangled thing called prosthetics," the blonde smiled. "Might wanna look into it."

"You paying for it, then absolutely."

"Alright," the supervisor, a crusty, older man in his fifties that almost reminded Torgeir of his grandfather a bit. "Finish up here, then we'll turn it over to second shift," the older mechanic glanced up through the open hull paneling to the crane operator which still held the second engine in place. "Wes, go take a shower. It's Friday."

"Sweet," the teenager replied. "Get to wash my clothes too, then."

"No," Maury countered, the technician whose bulky, tall frame barely fit through most of the doorways on this ship. "Not the end of the month yet."

Torgeir and the other four laughed, then he gathered the rest of his things and made his way back to the cargo bay, the entry being the closest to the engineering area seeing as the owner wanted the mechanics to be in as little of the ship as possible. Hopping down, his boots pounded on the hangar's permacrete floor and the twenty-six year old glanced out through the hangar doors to the large vista that was Naboo. Green fields and verdant mountains in the distance seemed to go on forever on this world. Not too unlike his homeworld, in fact.