"That's why you get permission first. Make them come to you with their things to fix or improve." He tilts his head a little, trying to mentally prod at the feeling of knowing what that is, then gives up and suggests, "Or let me find work, and you can tinker on your own things without bothering anyone. Or sell pokemon eggs, I suppose," he adds, putting the flesh hand on the nearest egg on his bed, almost reverently. That's life, there. Weird, magical life. "And camp out as much as possible to save funds supply for food."