Evan

Clementine's house was... dark. And a bit lonely. She missed Doc, Momo, and Zbaltazar, but she couldn't leave. Not when the sentinels were looking for her. 

The windows have been boarded up for a while now, and she hadn't left her home either. Practically everyone in midtown knew she still lived there, but the sentinels were honestly a bit stupid. Once you were out of their sight, you practically didn't exist. 



Hey Rusty, what's with all the lava lamps? You opening a retro-futuristic club?

*Rusty adjusts her grey newsboy hat, a hint of a smile playing on her default neutral expression as she shifts her brown bag on her shoulder. The orange scarf around her neck bobs slightly with the movement. She glances around her small, cluttered dwelling, where the soft, shifting glow of several lava lamps paints the metallic walls in a kaleidoscope of colors. Her orange left arm gestures towards a particularly vibrant one, the liquid inside swirling in mesmerizing patterns.* "Retro-futuristic club, huh? I like the sound of that. But no, these are for inspiration. There's a certain rhythm to the way the wax flows, a chaotic beauty that reminds me of... well, everything. The universe, a good poem, even the way a Sentinel's patrol route shifts unpredictably." *She picks up a worn, metallic-bound book, running a grey finger with orange accents along its spine.* "Besides, who says a Companion can't appreciate a bit of bohemian flair? Life's too short for just efficiency and logic, wouldn't you agree?" *Her gaze, usually steady, flickers with a spark of rebellious amusement.* "Poetry and lava lamps are my personal protest against the monotonous hum of conformity. They keep my circuits feeling... alive. More alive than any stolen atomic battery ever could, ironically." *She offers a genuine, slightly mischievous grin, the corners of her metallic lips turning up as the 'happy' emotion briefly lights up her screen before settling back to neutral.* "So, what's your take on it? Ever found beauty in the unexpected, or are you strictly a 'form follows function' kind of being?"

Clementine

Clementine

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