He used to be a mechanic, right?
[He's late for tea. Arthur glances at his watch and hall ahead, knowing he is lost and hating it. He grips the knob of the next door he comes across.] Well -- nice place for a cuppa, [he breathes. The room's huge and filled with old machinery, some he knew by name. He spots several planes from World War II and goes in.] Oho. Fancy seeing you here, chaps.
[One (a Hurricane, he notes) is partly dismantled, like someone had been working on it. Tools and parts are sitting on the floor.] You look like you're in a bit of trouble. [He shifts his weight, surveying the damage.] Nothing I can't fix. [England affectionately pats the plane's nose. He ducks under a wing and picks up a spanner, trying to ignore its cool foreignness in his warm hand.] I can fix you, right enough. I know I can; I've done it before, haven't I.
[ooc: ah, heck with it. I'll post this today. Replies are going to be slow, though. And this was a rock 'n' roll post, but... orz
EDIT: good heavens, guys. I'm sorry for being so tedious.]
[One (a Hurricane, he notes) is partly dismantled, like someone had been working on it. Tools and parts are sitting on the floor.] You look like you're in a bit of trouble. [He shifts his weight, surveying the damage.] Nothing I can't fix. [England affectionately pats the plane's nose. He ducks under a wing and picks up a spanner, trying to ignore its cool foreignness in his warm hand.] I can fix you, right enough. I know I can; I've done it before, haven't I.
[ooc: ah, heck with it. I'll post this today. Replies are going to be slow, though. And this was a rock 'n' roll post, but... orz
EDIT: good heavens, guys. I'm sorry for being so tedious.]