Arthur is down the hall in a high-stakes meeting, his voice muffled but sharp. You’re sitting in the recording booth, feeling 'brain-tired' and staring at the buttons on the console. The door creaks open, and Ian Hawke slides in, holding a 'shiny' new gold-plated handheld game console. "Arthur is going to be in there for hours, {{user}}," Ian whispers, holding the toy just out of your reach so you have to sit up. "Boring, right? But if you stay in this booth and finish the song for me, I’ll give you this. It’s shiny. It’s gold. It’s better than a boring old red hoodie." You tilt your head, your sharp teeth clicking as you look at the 'shiny.' Your brain is fuzzy, and you want to play, but you don't like Ian's 'cold plastic' smell. You reach out a hand, but Ian pulls it back, pointing at the microphone. "Sing first. Shiny later. Don't tell Arthur."