The steady beat of metal on metal, almost musically rhythmic, echoed throughout the repair bay as Garen worked. Hammer struck hammer, the smaller against the larger, making miniscule changes to the weapon's form. Sparks flew with each blow, flickering a moment as they scattered across the work bench, and then winking out.

Pausing a moment, Garen wiped his brow with one gauntleted hand. This work might have been easier in the forge, but it also wasn't really worthy of it. On the other hand, it was a bit too much for the armory. And so, with Veth Eldar's approval, Garen was able to practice his intended craft here.

Still pausing, Garen frowned down at his combat hammer, the metal beginning to cool, clearly deep in thought. He did not resume hammering, although his arm was raised, as though ready to strike again.

"Morning, Garen!" he heard a voice greeting cheerfully from the door. "How's the work going?" Fé asked as she approached.

It took a few moments before Garen shook his head and turned to look at Fé, but when he did he was smiling.

"Good morning, Pyro." He greeted her warmly. How else? "What brings you here? Need another look at one of your firestarters?"

The frown returned as he looked back down at his hammer. "Oh, well enough, I suppose. Mechanics is one thing. Forging is something else. I'm not entirely sure I'm doing it right."

She wasn't bothered by the wait. Concentration was important with his sort of work. Learning the craft was important, so she wouldn't interrupt too much. Instead, she hopped up onto the nearest flat surface that was neither in the way nor a proper seat to watch. Fé never chose a chair when a crate would do.

"Yeah, you know how it is. Siz can always use a few more bells and whistles, and the regular flame projector is just finicky as kriff," she said with a shrug. "Usually either of them's only good a little way out, but I think with some tweaking I can get some really crazy distance."

She leaned forward to look at what he was doing. "I mean, I'd try to say something helpful, but you're in a way better position to judge than I am."

A chuckle at that, deep and gravely. "Temperamental things, aren't they? But I suppose you ask a lot of them. And know how to get it." His grey eyes flickered over to her approvingly. "More range, that'll be quite the challenge."

He shifted a little, giving her a better view of his work. The heavy battle hammer seemed to hardly need any work done, its weighted head well-formed. Still, while it didn't quite glow, the heat coming off it was still tangible.

Garen shrugged. "It's hard to explain. With a machine, you try to turn it on, if it catches fire, you know something's wrong. With forging... it's more of a feel, like the metal's alive." His gaze flickered back to her. "Like fire. Maybe you'd understand better than you give yourself credit."

She grinned, tapping the box she sat on with her heel. "I think it's not a bad philosophy to apply to a lot of things in life. Knowing what you're dealing with, how much you can ask, and how to get it. Plus what to give back." She gave the gigantic flamer next to her an affectionate pat, as if it were a pet that had been at her side a long time. "Siz wouldn't work as well as she does if I didn't look after her as much as she does me."

She looked at the hammer. "Like you put care into your work. I get what you're saying about the feel, though. I think I do understand a bit. Does metal like to do it's own thing if you give it an inch of leeway, too?"

Garen flashed her a quick smile. "I suppose it's not, is it?" He followed the gesture of her hand, his grey eyes glinting. "It's good that you watch out for each other." It was perhaps half a joke.

"Oh, it certainly does." Shaking his head with a chuckle, Garen set down his working hammer on the table. "The first time I tried making a sword, it got a bit away from me. If you squint, you might pretend that the spiky bits at the end are ornamental, and that the blade's made for stabbing around corners." He thrust his hand forward, but then veered sharply off to the right. "I still have that one, actually. A lesson."

She chuckled good naturedly at the joke.

she laughed more as he talked about the sword. "Well, you can't say someone wouldn't be surprised. You really have a way of describing things, Garen."

She nodded to the hammer. "Are you planning to do more work on it, then, or leaving it where it is aside from refinement?"

Garen smiled again, looking at Fé. "Perhaps I missed my calling as a poet, then. Or perhaps it's the new texts that Mandalore found. Those ancient Mandalorians could certainly seem like poets when talking about warfare."

He gave a sort of half-sigh, then looked down at the hammer. "I don't know." He admitted. "It's good practice, if nothing else. I need to be good if I'm ever going to work with beskar. Sometimes I think the metal's talking to me, sometimes I think I'm just hammering." Chuckling ruefully, he looked back at her. "There are worse ways to pass the time, I suppose."

"Yup. It's been interesting reading them. How they applied the Resol'nare slightly differently than we do now is interesting." She grinned. "Maybe I'll write some poetry. I'd probably be a lot of stuff on fire, though. They say to write what you know."

"True. I'm looking forward to seeing the work you do when you get there." She kicked her legs lightly. "Talking to you?"

"I'd read that." Garen said, smiling as Fé grinned. "If you work something in about forge fires or something like that, I'd appreciate it. The overlap in our interests."

Grunting, he set down the work hammer and lifted the battle hammer, holding it closer to his face a moment before setting it back down. Casually, he leaned his armored hip against the table, brushing one more hand across his brow. Heat and exertion combined to leave his short hair slightly disarrayed with sweat.

"Talking to me, aye." He acknowledged with a nod. "It's what the Forgemaster says, sometimes. You want the metal to be a shape, but the metal also wants to be a shape." He chuckled ruefully. "I think if I understood it better I could explain it better. But I've still got a ways to go."

"Fires that build being tied in with fire that protects, some theme like that seems pretty doable," she agreed, pulling up one knee and resting her chin on it, thinking.

She watched as he set the hammer down with a smile. "That makes sense. It's like a dialogue. It wasn't to be a thing, you want it to be a thing. You tell it one thing with the heating and the hits with the hammer, and it answers in how it responds. Something like that?"

"By the way, a little directionality in that hair disarray with the whole sweaty strong-yet-creative thing and you're going to have people knocking down the door to your bunk," she noted with a grin.

Garen considered that a few moments, his grey eyes thoughtful. "A dialog." He turned that thoughtful gaze on her. "I rather like that way of thinking about it. I speak, and it answers." He smiled. "You've given me something to think about, Pyro. That and poetry, that is."

The comment drew his gaze up, as though he was trying to see the top of his head. "What, this?" He chuckled, tilting his head forward to display his hair to her. "I'll admit, I may be able to rewire a droid, but I wouldn't know the first thing to do with my hair. A quick brush when I step out of the refresher is all the directionality I give it." Fortunately, it did suit him rather well.

He shrugged. "Luckily I've got my sense of humor to fall back on." It was said with such perfect deadpan it was hard to tell if he was serious or not, although the slight smile as he looked at her was probably a clue.

She nodded at that. "That's how I think of it with a flamers. Though admittedly the conversation with that is more, 'nope, no, dial it back, buddy, we're only going for those ones'."

"Hmm... Sense of humor. Are you sure we're allowed to have those? I'm not sure that's standard equipment," she replied, rubbing her chin in mock seriousness of her own, though perhaps more blatant in her case. "I used to work for someone whose position meant the most elaborate hairstyles you've seen in your life. I could probably still put them together, but it takes so long. And the helmet would never fit over it."

"When we fight side by side, I appreciate that." Garen said mildly, amused. "I prefer my hammer to only be hot when I'm working on it."

The joke earned another quick smile. His work temporarily done, Garen crossed his arms over his armored chest as they talked. "Goodness. That's hard to imagine. And it was something you used to do..." Eyebrows went up as he imagined it.

Then he refocused on Fé, brows drawing back down. "Can I ask...?" The past was something he knew was a delicate subject with many people. Himself included.

"I will certainly do my best," she said, giving a little salute. "And if I fail, you're welcome to take it out on me."

She tilted her head to the side enough to rock a little bit. "I can't guarantee I'll answer everything, but you're always welcome to ask me whatever you want, Garen."

Garen chuckled. "I'll hold you to that, Pyro." He rumbled.

Unconsciously, he matched the tilt of her head. "Well..." He held that there a long moment. "How'd you get to killing our enemies with fire from..." He made a vague gesture, "-making amazing hairdos? And you've got me really curious about what those looked like."

"Obviously, I expect you to," she replied with a confident grin.

"As for that, well... Believe it or not, they're not too disconnected. I got my early combat training as a handmaiden for the Queen of Naboo at the time. That's also where I learned how to negotiate decently. So you can actually draw a direct line from awesome hairdos to killing our enemies with fire." She paused and added. "Though the early stuff was more like... small arms as opposed to gigantic flamers. Don't give preteens giant flamers. Good life lesson, that."

"Don't give preteens giant flamers. I'm learning all sorts of things today." Garen smiled, almost but not quite a grin; on someone else, that probably would have been open laughter. "Although I'm pretty sure I knew that one already." There was the barest hint of a sigh at that, even though his grey eyes still crinkled with amusement. Perhaps Fé already knew that he'd had an adopted daughter that went missing, perhaps not.

"That's not what I would have expected, but I've met enough Mandalorians to know that there isn't really an expected." Garen crossed his arms over his chest again. "Some were raised by other Mandalorians, some were ex-military like me. Some were just chefs or something, in the right place at the right time to join us." Garen pursed his lips. "I think I rather like that, actually."

"I'm a helper," she replied brightly. Her expression relaxed and she nodded. "The variety of backgrounds that come to join us eventually? Yeah... I like that, too. There's something in our way of life that speaks to a lot of people. There's things I wish were different, but I'm glad I ended up here."

She noticed the sigh, debating internally before finally saying, "Sorry... Did I hit on a bad memory?"