i'm a rocketeer; let's fly

At first, when Faye steps behind the opera house to find that Redtail has been altered, changed to allow for steam valves rather than her usual gas engine, she's furious. It's been months since she'd flown in the craft, short on fuel as she is, and having even the thought of escape torn from her is more than she can swallow in all of his snow, weather that she's been unaccustomed to since long before she landed on the island. A girl like her's meant for sun, for balmy beaches and summer breezes, the smell of suntan lotion as familiar to her as anything else. A girl like her keeps her ship in just enough shape to rush through space, stopping only when she gets lost in it, unafraid to push herself to her limit, and still ends up among the stars.

But a taxi passing by calls back her anger and draws her attention to the steam that rises into the air in whorls and puffs. Peering around the craft, she finds no fuel. No gas tank. Hours later, she's shoveled coal, sparked a fire, and the hiss of steam seems to manage just about everything— except that all gears have taken a turn for the worse, stuck in disrepair.

"Could be worse," she sighs to herself, tugging her jacket more closely around her shoulders as she rummages around in the back for a canister of oil and her tool kit, climbing out of the cockpit and situating herself underneath the belly of the ship. "So, how do we get you to fly again?"