Perfect. "'Course he is!" Chuckle, shaking his head, "The feather-brain doesn't know half of it!" And he forgot the major half, but that wasn't here or there.
Cid mirrored the small smile, only adding a hell of a lot more teeth and width, dropping the cup down on the table - again, without spilling a drop, though the actual cup made an ominous sound - and practically jumping over to a pile of what appeared to be junk. Some ruffling later, though, the pilot was retreating with what looked like a stone tablet taken out of a museum; when a switch was flicked on the side, it even rumbled into life, the motor inside seeming to struggle to work. He'd found it in some shady part of the down-town, but it seemed to work fine in tracking shit Cid never thought he'd have to track: radio waves, electrical waves, even signals sent from some guy's internet.
Had no idea where it came from, but that wouldn't stop him from using it. If Nata was emitting any sort of coding (since dissecting the kid just wasn't going to happen), this baby had best to pick it up. Normally, Cid was a mechanic, and a mechanic only; that stupid cat was the one who normally did all the hacking bits of their little party. But that cat wasn't around, so he smacked the tablet a bit to get it to move faster, gnashing his teeth on an invisible cigarette as he headed back over to Nata.
"Whelp," the pilot presented the hunk of metal with a flourish, chest puffed out in pride, "time to get down to business, don't you think, kid? This little gizmo should tell us if you're really a machine or what not. Up for it? Won't hurt, even if you don't have nerve endings." Which was doubtful, looking the boy over (he'd had to find monster's weak points in two seconds or less, and those things had scales- wasn't that hard to see where blood flowed and didn't on a human) once.