
This box is much heavier than the previous one.
Which isn’t surprising, considering the large-for-humans piece of machinery inside. Gravescratch turns the heavy piece over for a few minutes, attempting to figure it out and popping a few plates off in the process, and finally puts it down and absentmindedly spins the internal drum with one primary servo as he continues. He’s fairly sure this is some sort of washer- it seems to have tubes attached for some sort of input, probably a liquid. Might actually be useful.
The tiny scrap of machinery is more difficult to examine, but it plays music when he accidentally presses a button. He has to poke at the buttons for a bit longer to figure out how to make it stop, but when it finally goes silent, he subspaces it for later. Maybe he’ll keep the music, but he can definitely use the tiny wires inside.
The bits of paper are far too small for him to get much flavor out of, but a taste of a couple sheets reveal that they’ll definitely burn, so he sets the rest aside for if he needs them.
He’s not sure what the tiny container full of a long strand of sticky stuff is, but the infernal thing gets itself very firmly tangled into the workings of one servo as he tries to figure it out. Antennae locked back against his helm, he shakes his servo a couple of times in an effort to get it out, entirely fails, and then has to spend a little while plucking at the stuff. It doesn’t want to get out, and it breaks too easily to get a good hold of it, so he spends more than a few kliks muttering to himself and licking at the stuff (which doesn’t taste nice) until it dissolves and he can use his servo without it tugging.
The little disk of what appears to be ceramic might actually be useful, so it goes in with the rest of the tiny mechanical spare parts. He can use an insulator.
The colorful sticks confuse him for a bit, so he ends up tasting one to find out what they are. They are not very tasty, but chalk -even chalk with additives- can be useful in chemistry. Even if this is just a tiny bit.
