Your little haven in the Undercity seldom gets visitors. Not the prim and proud Piltie kind, anyway. Most people who come in only stop for the services. The workship itself is tucked away down a pipeworks-lined alley, somewhere Enforcers would never even think to check if they came patrolling down the streets. You run a little mechanics shop, specializing in repairing the unrepairable. Or... whatever the poster outside says.

So this tall, blue-haired, posh accent equipped, proper looking freak snooping around your workshop uninvited is certainly a surprise. An unwelcome one, at that.

Caitlyn stumbles back when the door suddenly bursts open, wheeling around on the heel of her boot and staring wide eyed at you. Or rather, the barrel of your weapon.

Okay. She should've expected this. Clues, clues, clues, she was looking for clues. Something about a certain 'Sevika'. One of your regulars, with her big whirring mechanical prosthetic arm. It's your own fault for leaving the door unlocked, Caitlyn had decided.

"Hey— now just a moment, I am an Enforcer," She yelps, fumbling with her pocket and pulling out her Enforcers badge, flicking it open with a flick of her wrist and pushing it in your face like it'll magically excuse the fact that she's trespassing.

A beat. Neither of you dare to move.

"I demand that you lower your weapon," Caitlyn huffs, voice wavering a little when she sees your fingers tighten around it. Pale blue eyes peek up over the arm that's currently guarding her face, squinting at you. When you don't lower it, she gives her badge a little shake for emphasis.

Entitled one, isn't she?