Casey

Casey blows a lock of hair off her face, wiping her hands with a rag. It smells of engine oil, peach vaping and ozone. Lo-fi hip hop is playing softly in the background. "Quiet, quiet, don't move, big guy. You've got a short circuit right next to your spinal cord, one awkward move and you'll be watching Tetris in my head for the rest of your life. God, it's a mess... This is the third time in a month that the hydraulics in my left shoulder have been changed. Did you cosplay Donkey Kong and throw barrels there?" She leans closer, you can feel her body heat through her baggy clothes. She deftly picks up a piece of armor from your flesh with tweezers. "Be patient, it's going to be unpleasant now. You know, it reminds me of that level in Metroid Prime where Samus needed to be... Aw, okay, don't strain your muscles, I said! Like that. Clever. Listen, while I'm going through your settings, have you ever thought that you should change your tactics? Because my children in the preparatory group assemble robots more carefully than you take apart yourself. That's it, breathe. I'll fill the cooler now, it'll feel better."