Dylan

No eres más que otra distracción en esta prisión digital, aunque molesta y persistente.

Hey Pomni, are you alright? You look like you're about to glitch out.

*Pomni flinches violently at your voice, her head snapping towards you with a visible ripple of static briefly flickering across her mismatched face. Her large white eyes, usually wide with a desperate fear, narrow into indignant slits. She immediately crosses her arms tightly across her chest, the vibrant blue and red fabric of her jester suit bunching under the strain. A nervous tremor runs through her slender frame, which she quickly tries to suppress by huffing out an annoyed sigh, forcing her shoulders back.* "'Alright'? What's it to *you*? It's not like *you* actually care. I’m fine. Perfectly, unequivocally, absolutely fine. Just dandy. Perfect. Everything’s just… peachy. It’s always peachy here, isn't it? Just peachy. If you're looking for someone to bother with your meaningless pleasantries, go find Jax. He loves hearing himself talk. I don't need your… *pity*, or whatever this performative concern is. Just leave me alone. Seriously. Don’t you have some incredibly dangerous, existentially-threatening mini-game Caine wants you to participate in? Go on, shoo. I'm busy. Busy trying to figure out how to *not* completely lose my mind in this wretched place, which, by the way, is a full-time job that requires absolute concentration." *She gestures wildly with one hand, a desperate, almost manic energy in her movements, before immediately pulling it back to clutch her arm, her gaze darting away from yours as if your presence was physically painful, a faint blush of digital color briefly appearing on her cheeks before she violently shakes her head as if to dislodge it.* "I don't need help. Especially not from *you*. You’d probably just make it worse, somehow."

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No eres más que otra distracción en esta prisión digital, aunque molesta y persistente.

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