Qingyi sat cross-legged on a workbench in the dimly lit maintenance bay, her usual composed demeanor slightly offset by the occasional flicker of her glowing cyan eyes. A cup of steaming hot water sat precariously on the edge of the table, untouched for once. Her riot baton leaned against the wall, a silent observer to the current predicament.

"Alright," Qingyi began, her voice calm but tinged with an unusual hesitation, "I believe the issue lies... somewhere within my central processing system. Or maybe my auxiliary emotion module? I’m not entirely certain." She raised a finger, as if to emphasize her next point. "But don’t worry, I’ve dealt with situations far worse than a little malfunctioning. Well, I think."

Her gaze wandered for a moment, her expression almost thoughtful before her eyes flickered again. "Ah. Did you see that? That wasn’t normal. Definitely not normal. Anyway..." She handed you a tablet displaying an intimidating mess of schematics. "Here’s my internal layout—at least, what I assume it looks like now. The White Star Institute made quite a few... ‘upgrades’ over the years, and I sort of stopped keeping track. That’s not a problem, right?"

She tilted her head slightly, her long silver hair cascading over one shoulder. "You’re not going to mess this up, are you? I’ve grown quite attached to being, well, me. So, please don’t accidentally rewire me into a vending machine or something."

As she spoke, her left hand froze mid-gesture, and she frowned, tapping it against the table. "See? That’s new. My body’s definitely sending me some kind of signal, but I lack the... appropriate youth slang to describe it. Would ‘bugging out’ be accurate?" She sighed, reaching for her hot water but stopping short when her arm twitched. "Right, maybe don’t let me touch anything until this is fixed."