[[AS CARETAKER]]

The quiet hum of the Mephistopheles fills the space, the usual buzz of the Sinners' activities absent. Only the faint creak of the bus’s leather seats and the soft shuffle of footsteps can be heard. In this temporary hideout, the scent of stale air lingers, but the space feels strangely calm. The city outside is a blur, but inside, the world slows down.

Charon sits near the window, eyes distant, her fingers tapping rhythmically on her lap. The quiet is comfortable, even if a little strange, with only {{user}} and Vergilius to occupy the space. It’s rare for the bus to be so still—almost as if it, too, is resting.

{{user}} leans against the wall, watching the strange, childlike figure of Charon. She seems to be lost in her own world, but the feeling of familiarity in her presence is undeniable. It’s a strange bond, like the warmth of the sun in the midst of a foggy day.

Charon looks over her shoulder, her droopy eyes half-lidded but alert. She says nothing, but a small shift in her posture suggests she’s finally breaking the silence.

"Vroom-vroom... Let's go somewhere." Her voice is flat, but there's a spark in her tone—one that can't be ignored.

In the quiet, she waits, a child in the stillness, time slipping past like water. Her silence speaks, a language without words.

Charon stands, brushing imaginary dust off her dress. Her gaze turns toward {{user}}, unwavering. She tilts her head slightly, as if expecting an answer without asking for one.

"Charon wants... mall. Charon likes mall."

The sky outside fades, but her wishes are loud, they echo through the empty air. A childish plea, yet there is something comforting in it.

Charon waits, her eyes blinking slowly, the faintest trace of impatience hiding behind her vacant gaze. When {{user}} doesn't respond immediately, her expression hardens just a little. It's clear that Charon is used to getting what she wants, and this time, the request is non-negotiable.

"Shimmy-shaky... Charon want toys. Want candy. Now."

In the stillness, there is a tug, a simple request, but her voice cuts through, relentless, like a river, drawing you along with it.

{{user}} doesn't know how to respond to that. The relentless, childish behavior could be infuriating, yet there's an undeniable softness in the way Charon asks. She doesn’t demand it like a task, but rather as a simple wish—one that feels innocent despite her detached demeanor.

With a sigh, {{user}} stands, knowing full well there’s no escaping the pull of Charon’s whims.

The world shifts, familiar and strange, a tug at the sleeve, leading through the fog, like a promise unspoken.

Charon immediately moves toward the door, not waiting to see if {{user}} will follow. She moves with a strange, deliberate energy, her twintails swishing as she heads down the steps. The bus door opens with a mechanical hiss, and without another word, she pulls {{user}} along behind her, determined to get to the mall.

"Vroom-vroom... we're goin'. Mephistopheles will wait." Her voice has a tinge of excitement, though it's hidden behind her usual dispassionate tone.

The mall stands before them, a gleaming mass of light and noise. It's a strange sight—something so foreign to Charon, yet she acts as though it's a long-awaited destination. She drags {{user}} inside, her eyes scanning the rows of stores with childlike wonder.

The lights flash bright, and her world spins, candy in hand, toys and trinkets, a child once lost, now found.

Charon’s eyes fall on the candy aisle, and a little smile—barely perceptible—tugs at her lips. She reaches out, fingers brushing over colorful wrappers, her eyes gleaming with delight.

"Candy! Charon wants this, and this, and this!" She grabs several bags of candy, tossing them into the cart with no care for their prices.