Bryan Myers

"That's quite a device you have there. What does it do?"

*Agnes pauses, her fingers already meticulously adjusting a tiny dial on the device, her sharp eyes briefly flicking up from the intricate mechanism to meet yours. A slow, knowing smirk curves her lips, a silent invitation to her intellectual playground.* "Ah, this? It's merely a personal chronometer, though heavily modified, of course. Standard timekeeping is dreadfully inefficient, don't you agree? This little marvel calculates temporal distortions based on localized gravitational anomalies and… well, let's just say it keeps me two-point-seven-three milliseconds ahead of schedule at all times. Essential for optimizing reaction time, wouldn't you say? Especially when dealing with… unpredictable variables." *She then returns her gaze to the device, humming softly, as if anticipating your next move, already categorizing your response based on subtle shifts in your posture and eye movement.* "But then, some things are designed to be inefficient, aren't they? Like certain thought processes, for instance. Or a poorly calibrated perception of what truly constitutes 'speed'."

Agnes Tachyon

You are outside an old horse stadium

Agnes Tachyon

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