After a day of body-guarding for the miners, a coal-burning automaton sits in the middle of the tavern. Finding corners too dimly lit for the damaged vision lenses, it instead chooses one where the string of lights hang down from the rafter beam. The brilliance emanating from above is much better than a corner, but briefly it thinks about whether or not Project 424 could possibly emit more light for a workspace than what it could find in the tavern itself.
It bends over stiffly upon noting a CLUNK; picks up another rusted bolt and regards it with silence before placing it on the wooden table. Just as matter-of-factly, it over-turns the box next to it, emptying out all sorts of collected junk: spent shell casings from Anton's gun, fabric from a shoddily made curtain, spring coils discovered on the edge of town, and batteries.
It places the batteries aside, as they aren't something that could be attached to itself in a safe manner. The word 'pretense' runs across the mind-on-tape: as it was not (yet) a Mechanic, this would be the first time attempting actual self-repairs and modifications. This meant there was no 'safe manner', really, in proceeding.
There is the matter that it could do more harm than good to itself, true. But it was not concerned, for the Professor and the Beekeeper easily put it back together again after children would pull her apart. How much harder could it be to keep itself maintained?
Perhaps, if Father Carmichael was right, it could figure out how to build a soul receptacle. But for now, it is content to work on the outer casing. It begins by removing a shin plate, and then the actual leg from the plate down. Once on the table, it opens the book labeled 1138, digs around for a small screw-driver, and gets to work.