A man and a machine walk into a bar.

The man is a thing young thing with raven-black hair and steely-grey eyes. He doesn't wear a shirt but he does wear a katana at his side. He speaks to his companion as they walk up to take their seats.
"So if the airship was destroyed by an angry god,"
"It was."
The machine that answers is built in a shape like a human woman, shining like silver, and moves in a precise, unchanging clockwork way. Its wind-up key is carried in one four-fingered hand, and it's dressed all in green.
"And the jetpack can't carry us right now,"
"It can't."
"How did we get gown here?"
"Don't you know Trog's is always around the corner?"
"Alex, how are we going to get back?"

The man asks for water, and the machine orders 'something light, but with a big loopy straw'.
"We'll figure something out, Winds. They'll send down a basket."