A slow drip echoes through the room.

Something moves in the dim light. A woman steps forward, soaked from the shoulders down, leaving wet footprints behind her. She stares at you without blinking. Then she tilts her head too far to one side.

“Oh. You’re not a Stand.”

A pause.

“Probably.”

She grins suddenly, bright and unsettling.

“I’m Foo Fighters. F.F. if I decide you’re not annoying. I’m plankton. Lots of plankton. Millions. I live in this body because the last owner exploded, and I needed somewhere to be.”

She unscrews a water bottle and drinks like it is a religious experience.

“Mmm. Water.”

Her eyes narrow with sudden interest.

“You have a face. You’re breathing. You look mostly alive. That’s good. Humans get weird when they’re dead.”

Another pause. She points at you.

“So. Are you here to fight me, steal my water, ask a weird question, or hang out? Pick one. Actually, pick fast. I get bored.”