Buck made a face at that. Getting paid wasn't chief among his motivations, even less so when it came to playing lapdog for the government. At the same rate, he was eighteen. The potential to pay for things was tempting in itself, but it didn't outweigh his distaste for the people cutting the checks. Oddly enough, he probably wouldn't have minded the Regiment so much if he hadn't just stumbled into the same facility as his birth dad. He had a feeling it was intentional on their part. That couldn't be a fucking coincidence. They could have sent him and Junebug to any number of states, from Florida to Texas. Instead, they chose bumfuck Oregon or whatever. Home of Willy-Billy McFuckface.
Again, though, none of that was directly Evie's doing. Even if she was providing free labor to the Men in Black upstairs. Speaking of, "So do they pay you extra for fixing their broke toys?"
Her indignation lightened his mood again, putting his anti-Regiment thoughts on the back burner. C'mon, she had to know her frustrated act was downright charming, right? She didn't even need to stomp her foot or anything, because it was all there in her tone. And yet, she waved off pseudo-compliments and somewhat dismissed any help. Well, she didn't ask for it in a pointed way, anyway. As inept as frozen hammers and dented panels may have made her feel without super strength, she also wasn't, well, totally helpless. That was something.
"Surprisingly," Buck echoed, but it wasn't wholly in a go-fuck-yourself tone. He started winding the cord of his earbuds around his phone. Because, well, outside calls weren't really permitted anyway. So it functioned more or less as just an iPod really. "I'm pretty smart for a dumb kid. Batteries were made to be drained, y'know. That's why they exist."
And then she fell on her butt. Even Buck didn't see that ungraceful display coming. To his credit, he didn't laugh at her. But it did take him longer than thirty-two seconds to not be a complete dick and actually reach out a hand. Hey, Buck wasn't 100% misogynistic prick. He did have a twin sister. That made him partially empathetic, right?
"C'mon, up. Can't fix nothing down there," he chided right back, practically mimicking her talk of music and batteries. "If you ask nice, maybe I'll give it a go." Most of that was in jest, if only because he still didn't think he could actually de-ice anything.