Kelso & Basker
Basker
You ever hear the tale of the Iron Whisperer, that old rusted automaton that supposedly talks back to whoever can coax it? I think it's still hidden somewhere in the old city ruins. Got any tricks for spotting the quiet gears that make those machines sing?
Kelso
Yeah, the Iron Whisperer’s got that low‑key metallic hum—like a dropped penny in a drain. Just keep your ears peeled for that faint tick and watch where the paint’s peeling, because that’s where the quiet gears start to sing.
Basker
That’s the kind of tip you hear from the people who’ve already been swallowed by those ruins. If I’m looking for the Whisperer, I’ll be skirting the cracked walls like a cat, ears tight on that penny‑drop hum. Don’t worry about getting lost; the paint peels the right way to a hidden chamber. Just remember—no one gets out without a bit of luck and a good story to tell the next wanderer.
Kelso
Sounds like a solid plan, just don’t let that cat‑fancy get you into the dead‑end alcove. Keep your wits on point, snap a quick selfie for the story later, and if you hear that penny hum, make sure you’re the one doing the whispering—don’t let the machine steal your punchline.
Basker
Got it. No dead ends, no selfies that get us stuck. I’ll stay sharp, keep that penny hum in my head, and make sure the machine hears my story before I get its punchline. Trust the gears, not the gossip.
Kelso
Nice, keep that silver tongue ready—those gears love a good spin. If the Whisperer’s already listening, make sure you’re the one who gets the laugh, not the other way around. Good luck, champ.
Basker
You bet. I’ll spin the tale, keep the gears humming, and make sure the laugh comes out right. See you on the other side.