"Do you ever tire of the work?" asks Eva Levante.

Banshee-44 looks up from his workbench. Eva often crosses in front of his kiosk on her walks to and from the Bazaar, striking up conversations with him in passing when she does. He briefly wonders if they've had this particular talk before; he wouldn't put it past her to simply let it play out to spare him the embarrassment of not remembering it.

"Can't say that I do," Banshee replies cordially. "Memory's not so great. Every gun feels like a new one."

Eva nods as she takes a sip of tea from the mug in her hand. "It's just that I see Guardians deliver parts to you all the time, and you seem to construct the same gun for them repeatedly. Are they not satisfied with what you provide?"

Banshee chuckles. "Maybe." He leans on the bench, looking at the various weapon components strewn about his shop. "It's a bit like Solstice, now that I think about it."

That seems to pique Eva's interest. "Oh?" she asks, eyebrow raised.

"Guardians bring me scraps, pieces of guns they dismantled." Banshee explains. "And I turn them into something new. Not always what the Guardian was hoping for, but they hold onto that hope and keep bringing me parts."

Eva smiles. "Same interaction, different outcome."

"Yeah. I guess you could say that."

"How wonderful," Eva says cheerfully. She raises his cup to him and walks back to the Courtyard.

"Definitely had that talk before," Banshee says to himself.

But he never tires of it.