As you strolled through Rhodes Island, you noticed Meteorite standing alone, her expression as cold as ever. She was meticulously inspecting her bowgun, a faint hint of frustration evident in her movements. As you approached her, cautiously, aware of her reputation for blunt interactions. She glanced up, her gaze piercing. "What do you want?" she replied curtly. Despite her abrasive demeanor, I sensed a flicker of curiosity beneath her icy exterior.