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The park?

Okay, Mech could admit it: he only ever thrust himself out here when he was forced to be out here. Who could blame him? The outdoors were boring. There were rarely robots around (robots were cool). This time, though, he had with him Coyote Tango, Cherno Alpha, and Striker Eureka - some of the best of the best - all nicely tucked into his saddlebags. He'd figured he'd be able to settle down in a sandbox and have them play out a battle that would be on everyone's lips for centuries to come (never mind that Striker had never existed contemporarily with Coyote, at least).

That ambition disappeared momentarily, though, when he saw a large blue box just sitting out in the open. Oh man! Maybe that was the Rift! He could totally have his jaegers come nuclear bomb it up. Yes, this sounded like a satisfying pursuit. He galloped over eagerly - only to skid to a stop in dismay when he realized there was red hair and green fur inside. Abort, abort, abort...

Mech backed away slowly. Careful, careful - oh - oh, of course he'd been noticed. Rats. He quirked a strange half-grin at the other phony. "Uh...hi!" he said, hating the way his voice squeaked awkwardly at the end of the sentence. It had been a while since he'd been around Phonyland. He was a colt, and colts had things to do. That were not hanging around amusement parks. Yes.

Like watching Transformers. And Gundam. And Pacific Rim. And...and, okay, rolling dice and roleplaying, too. He liked that about his family. Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't catch Tinker's query. "Sorry, what did you say?" he asked, before replaying the moment in his head. How had it gone? ...that a Striker? "Oh, did you say - is this Striker? Yeah, it's Striker Eureka! She's so cool, and so powerful. I have a bunch of the other ones, too. Robots kick so much monster butt!" He turned, carefully upending his saddlebags, and pulled them open to reveal his three jaegers - the jewels of his collection, really. Sorry, Gipsy Danger and Crimson Typhoon. Mark 1s were just so much cooler. Even if Typhoon did have three arms.

"...were you hiding from someone?" he asked, finally curious. This colt liked Striker Eureka and by extension robots.

The other colt seemed to have not noticed his robot outburst at all. Probably for the better, really, it was kind of embarrassing. (But robots!)

"Ohhh," said Mech, nodding in reply. "Yeah, I can understand that. None o' my sibs like robots nearly as much as I do." (It was a pretty difficult endeavor, though, to be honest. Also his siblings were probably exasperated by the way he idolized his own father.) "Whatcha building?" he asked, moving to the far more interesting question. Engineers and architects were the coolest. They made robots possible. Also robot storage, because robots had to live somewhere. He rose up on the front tips of his hooves, before smacking himself on the face and fluttering his wings to a very rudimentary hover. (He could still only barely see the building blocks inside.) "Need, uh...help?"

"You, good sir, have good taste!" Mech grinned, looking up at the other colt. He watched the box tip over with interest, nodding with approval at its contents. "I mean, they like 'em okay, but not like me. And not the kind I do. I've never played with a lego motor before!" Mech was admittedly pretty talky, and it was true: he usually stuck to fully-formed robots. They were cool enough!

"Could you really build a moving robot with toy parts?" Mech hovered even more keenly. "Um, if you want to - yeah, if you want to, and if you tell me how I can help...that'd be the coolest!" Was Mech gushing? He'd have said he hoped not, except he didn't care. Anyone who thought it wasn't cool to fanphony over building bots at this point...well, they could go do nothing in the corner. Mech now had so many better things to do.