It was only once we arrived at district M-20 that we came to realize that we had no clue where the Gadgeteer actually resided. Much against Oliver's wishes, I began asking anyone around us for directions. Luckily, a young girl who looked almost too bashful to even talk to me was able to guide us to the center of the district, claiming that he lived in a house that was just as constructed as the things he created. That it couldn't possibly be missed. I thanked her, and with that we made our way past several shops and streets, all made of cobblestone and lit a warm yellow from the late afternoon sun.

I turned to look at Oliver, whose flat hat lay sleepily on his head, almost covering his eyes completely. As he made eye contact, I felt my face get hot, and I looked away. This morning, I had awoken to find myself having fallen over in my sleep, the few feet of distance I had lay from Oliver the night before completely gone as realized I had moved sideways, laying on his open lap. As if that weren't embarrassing enough, he was already awake, and had been so for much longer, too afraid to move and possibly disturb me. Needless to say, it had been a rather awkward morning from there after.

As the shops fell away to make room for a main square, complete with a bronze fountain happily bubbling in the center. Just as the girl had said, a dirt path led off from the center in its own direction, winding down to, with any luck, the home of the Gadgeteer. I hesitantly made my way over to the path, looking at the strange copper wire flowers and yellow-leaved bushes that lined its edges. What if the man was unfriendly, or refused to give me the piece I needed? I had hardly any money, after all. How could I possibly expect a piece for free? I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I realized that I had stopped walking, Oliver bringing my mind back to Earth. A serious look was in his eyes.

"We're going to get the pieces, all right? I'll make sure of that." A nod followed this, as if to reassure me, and with his hand lightly on my back, pushing me forward for just a moment, I continued to walk. I found it strange that he had practically read my thoughts, but it was certainly helpful, giving me the courage to stand before the door of the Gadgeteer's cottage of both metal and wood, and offer up a single, loud knock.

"Who is it?" I heard a strange voice ask from the inside. Though I understood the words, they had been pronounced differently, similar to how Narsi spoke, if one didn't count the slight grinding of gears that she emitted occasionally.

"There are two of us. Evan, and Oliver, and we would like to speak to you for a few moments, if that's quite all right," I began, being sure to not use my real name.

"I have no time, nor interest in any more business projects, thank you very much. I retired years ago. You'll have to take your sale's pitch elsewhere," came the voice again, now sounding snippy with annoyance and tired with age.

"It's not a sales pitch," I continued. "We were sent by Narsi."

Though I could not see inside, I heard a slight pause before the sound of a few steps towards the door, which opened to reveal a man with dark eyes and hair. He looked warily between the two of us, before sighing for a moment. "You may enter."

Stepping inside, I immediately was hit with a smell like that of spice and old pennies. If I had thought my father's workshop to be excessive, then I wasn't sure what to call this place. The entire house was a work area, with arrays of screwdrivers and hammers hanging on every wall, shelves covered in boxes filled with nuts and screws. I almost tripped on a sheet of metal on the floor as I followed the man into what I assumed was meant to be a living room, with its two plush chairs. It was clear he didn't get visitors often, or at least, let them inside, as he sat down in the one chair, leaving Oliver and I to uncomfortably share the other.

"So you know of my daughter Narsi," the Gadgeteer began, folding his hands in his lap. "How?" The question itself was innocent, but I wasn't fond of the way he glared at Oliver as he asked it.

"Well, Evan and I actually live in the Lexington district. While we've only known each other for a short while, I've known Narsi for two years, and visit her restaurant every once and a while. The last time we visited, she recommended that we visit you, because as it turns out, we both happen to have very similar, yet unique problems."

"That's what they all say," he replied, leaning back further in his chair. "It's all I am to anyone. A problem solver." He had been reclining up to this point, but at that, he sat up, and I saw a glare of hatred in his eyes as he stared Oliver down. "I bet you want me to do it for free, too? That's how you damn Brits are anyway. Just expect people like me to do hard labor, because you think you deserve it." Now he stood, making his way towards Oliver, each step seeming more menacing than the last. He was rather built and tall. From his line of work, he also was well-fed and maintained, easily able to break Oliver if he wanted to. "How did you really know my daughter? Where is she?"

I watched Oliver shrink back, eye wide. I felt my blood pressure begin to rise, making my face hot. Who gave this man the right to make him feel threatened? My hands curled into fists, my breath quickening. Without even thinking, I stood up, pushing myself to be in between the two.

"For your information, Narsi is still in her own district, perfectly fine. I will not be able to say the same for you, however, if you refuse to back away from Oliver here." My voice came out loud and commanding. It stunned me for a moment, and I could feel even Oliver's confused look behind my back. "I have no clue why you feel the need to be so insulting Sir, but we came to ask for a request. Not do business, not for you to do labor, and certainly not to be called out just because he is British. We didn't barge in here insulting your background, so why must you do so when we have done nothing to deserve it? We came here, after asking Narsi, because we are looking for heart pieces. Oliver here is taking care of a young Silverheart girl on her last wind, and I am a Goldheart, who was only born with half the pieces I need to survive. Currently, you are right in that we have no way to pay you, but without them, I won't live to see the age of twenty-one. We will spend the rest of our lives repaying you, if needed, but if that is your issue, then voice that, rather than threatening us and invading our space."

The Gadgeteer pulled back, shock plain in his wide, dark eyes, before he regained himself, choosing to sit back in his chair and recompose himself. "Those are rather brave words, for a woman such as yourself," he mused, folding his hands and resting them on his chin. His now calm words hit my stomach like a rock. I turned to look at Oliver. His face matched mine.

I turned to ask him how he saw through me, but he held up a hand, quieting me. "It's a very good disguise. If it wasn't for your voice raising several octaves in anger, I doubt I ever would have known. Honestly, it was only a guess, but your reaction confirms my suspicions." He paused for a moment, glancing over at Oliver beside me. "Need I worry about him too?"

"No Sir." Oliver shook his head frantically, face turning slightly pink to reveal a spattering of freckles underneath. "I am certainly a male. Always will be."

"Wonderful to know," the Gadgeteer responded sarcastically. "So then my next question is, why do you feel the need to disguise yourself? Am I harbouring fugitives? I will trust your word that you did truly know Narsi..." He gestured to me. "But I certainly don't need anymore trouble. Anyone knows the politicians gave me enough as is."

I held my tongue for a moment, unsure of how to answer. Oliver was being quiet, and I could tell that he was just as hesitant to speak, given how his accent alone had set off our only lead thus far. I need to read him better. He can help us, but he needs a reason to, if not for money. I watched his positioning, from the way he propped his old face on his elbows, to the hunching of his back and solid, unmoving posture of his knees. He doesn't seem eager to throw us out at the moment, and is at least allowing me to speak, even for simply curiosity alone... His words did strike me though, with his hatred of the British, and now seemingly of politicians. The question was, how much did he hate them?

"I am not going to hide it," I finally spoke, allowing myself the same confidence that caught his attention before. I tried to ignore Oliver as his face shot forward, eyes wide and warning, as if he wanted to mentally signal me to keep quiet. No doubt a thief of tricks and lies would hate my frankness, but that was the only way to work with a man who had been gypped so often before. "We are wanted by the Mits. You see, my father was the recently captured Heartsmith, Clifton Foster. I am the recipient of the late Henry Bolleman's heart piece, and the government wants it back in their custody. Oliver here," I gestured to him. "Is simply a ragamuffin. Your average street rat." I ignored him again as I saw him pouting at me, like some sort of child. "However, he cares for many children, and one of them is very sick. He cares for her like a sister, and is trying to find her pieces, as am I for my own, incomplete heart. Being a Gadgeteer, you must have built the whole human body, from stray parts and pieces, and those bodies would need hearts. That being said-" I paused for a moment, sitting up in my seat and looking at him directly. "How much would you be willing to give us pieces, if only to save our lives to spite the people who want it back?"

I paused for a moment. Was that enough? My hopes were dashed however, when I heard him laugh for a moment.

"I wouldn't be giving away such expensive pieces just on pure spite alone. What does catch my interest though, is that despite being so open about your backgrounds, you bring up such a clear lie. You say you are a Goldheart, yet the daughter of Cliffton Foster, who was a widely announced Bronzeheart. Not to mention, he is Greek, and you..." He gestured to my body, from my light brown hair to almost as dark skin. "Do not look the part. Did you really think that I would believe that a Bronzeheart would give birth to a Gold? That you aren't trying to get a free piece to sell on the market?" He shook his head. "Really, a Silverheart piece and a Gold. Who would fall for such a clear ploy?"

That is it! I thought, standing up, taking Oliver's hand to tug him to his feet with me. I hated it when people claimed that I wasn't my father's child. That I must be adopted, or illegitimate. "My mother came to America from Mexico! I look like her, and my father Heartsmithed both their hearts to be able to give birth to me! So I am very much his child, and will not be told otherwise by someone who is none the wiser." I took a shaky breath, turning around and heading back out his door. "Coming here for help was clearly a mistake. We'll find it elsewhere. Have a wonderful night," I spat, for I didn't truly mean it, and with that, I closed his door none to pleasantly.

"What a bricky girl..." was the last thing I heard from inside before we were too far away to hear anything else. Minutes passed in silence as we headed back the way we came.

"I'm sorry, Eva," I finally hear Oliver speak. "I thought he could help us, and since he knew Narsi, perhaps it could be seen as a favor. I didn't expect him to be anything like that."

"It's fine," I replied, hoping he knew that my tone was not directed at him. "You had no way to possibly know. Not to mention, with him being Gadgeteer, he would have had exactly what we needed. But I'm not about to go back in there and be amiable when he spoke to me like that, and you." Especially you.

"Well, there's always the option of not being amicable," he mentioned, and I could practically hear his sly mind at work.

"I am not going to threaten him, if that's what you mean."

"Not at all!" he refuted happily. "As you just said about me, none too flatteringly, a moment ago, I'm a ragamuffin. A street rat. A common thief, if you will." He took off his cap for a moment, letting the setting sun hit his hair, shining as bronze as his buttons. He turned to me again, looking excited at the prospect. "So tonight, let's make our way in and take them for ourselves!"