Michael’s tastes were less flashy than his, which Connor would have found boring if the design itself wasn’t so interesting. Printing a fairly realistic looking foot had been fun, and the rest was all in silver and bronze colors. The joint for Michael’s knee had been the tricky part, and still required tweaks now and again, but it hadn’t slowed him down on the field, even when he ran the ball.
Connor noticed quickly that the balance was all off, causing the joint to wear more heavily where it connected. “How long has it been like this?” he asked as he took his tool kit out of his backpack. He always had the tools with him in case he needed to tinker with something on himself, but it had been used far more often to help Michael.
“I don’t know, a week or two?”
“Dude! You know you have to come to me with these issues right away. You can mess up your skin, the leg itself, strain other muscles—”
“I know, geez.”