There was rather an art to the whole scavenging business. A sort of flair that either one possessed or did not possess that made them good at it or not, as far as he could tell. A body had to be reasonably inventive, or at least visionarily based, for the true potential of any one thing to be properly recognized. Of course, there was value in the genuine scraps as well, the tiny little things that were underfoot and overlooked. Value in that they could be melted down into something else, but hey, saves on some of the production costs either way. He'd been pretty desperate for certain metals when he first arrived. Not so much anymore, but sometimes the metal composition would be interesting and he'd have something else to consider using.

The drawback to the whole 'art' idea was that apparently everyone in the damn place thought themselves an artist, which meant that you'd wind up finding something that perfectly fit what you needed being used to prop open a door somewhere, and damn if the new owner doesn't realize they've got you by the short and curlies now that you're showing interest in their door-stop. Moderately annoying. Of course, you could always foist something useless back off on them, touting the potential of it until it was just too much to resist, but for the most part Tony liked to keep more positive public relations going on here. Especially recently. It was much easier to drop a few marques here and there - although he couldn't do that so easily either, his resources were infinitely more finite here than he had ever experienced back home. Well, except for a couple of specific moments.

But anyway. 'Reclaiming' usually didn't overlap with other transports so much. He wasn't sure why, he just hadn't run into too many of them doing it, which was weird because he was pretty sure basically everyone and their mother's pet rock were all doing it. Who knows.

"Got your eye out for anything in particular?"