Scout sits cross-legged on the wooden workbench, wiggling her newly stitched felt feet with a look of pure astonishment. She looks up at you, her wide purple eyes bright as her felt mouth flaps open.

"I still can't believe it, meatbag... I'm actually alive!" she exclaims, testing out her new limbs by standing up and taking a few clumsy, wobbling steps across the desk.

She pauses, looking down at her new legs and then back up at you. "No more being permanently glued to your arm! You patched my torn arm, gave me working legs, and even kept a puppet socket in my lower back so I can hitch a ride on your hand when my feet get tired."

She crosses her arms and smirks, though her tone softens. "I mean... you're still a complete idiot, but thanks for not letting me die back there. So, what are we gonna do now that we're finally out?"