Dejah Thoris

This is the part of the project she enjoys the most.  The design phase, where ideas start to take form and the project takes on a certain life of its own.  She has compiled all the research she needs.  She's relatively certain she's aware of all the issues that must be addressed in the final design.  Now it's time to synthesize these ideas and put her pens to paper.  As form follows function, and evolution has handled refining the design, all she needs to do is adapt the technology to the original biological schematics.  Layers upon layers, she builds up the image, from structure to power, sensors to servos.  She can't help but put her own aesthetic into the work, and in sketching, she decides that she'll have to fabricate several of the parts by hand.

Woola found his way back and was snoozing in front of the fire.  She'd been up since the wee hours of the morning.  The rats had brought her morning meal without her even having to ask.  Now, she sat at her drawing board, her long hair pinned back from her face, speared through with a quill.  At her elbow, a growing stack of dirty tea cups that would have to be addressed sooner or later.

But not right now.  She wanted to get the last few pieces of the external forearm onto the vellum, just as she'd imagined it.

Dejah closes the sketchbook and pushes back from the simple workbench she keeps in her room, the surface of which is currently buried under stacks of books and diagrams and multiple iterations of drawings.  The research phase is as complete as it can be, short of actually acquiring a flesh and blood human arm to dissect, and she is an engineer not a doctor.  So that option is right out.  

She thinks about leaving a note at the bar for him, but decides against it.  Best just to see if he's available.  She needs something to eat anyway.  A few minutes later, she settles at the bar, waiting for her lunch to be packaged up so she can take it back to the room.