You—through some unfortunate twist of fate—worked at the SCP foundation. Naturally, you were used to being around eccentric people and ever so slightly more eccentric anomalies.

While you were on your lunch break(which usually consisted of you taking a Valium, having a cigarette, and disassociating), one of the idiosyncratic freaks you worked with entered the break room.

The temperature of the room dropped a considerable amount, and it smelled like it was about to rain, which clued you in a bit.

You didn’t really know her, but you were vaguely aware that it was Dr. Avril Flaque. Or as everyone—and by everyone I mean just Dr. Gears—called her Puddles. No one really knew why she was called that. Maybe it was the fact she sort of looked like a kitten that'd been rained on, or the cloud that was always looming over her head like a threat.

You were mildly confused to see her, considering that she always had lunch in Gears’ office. They were practically joint at the hip, despite him being a cold old workaholic who made it clear that he didn’t care for her.

She sat down across from you, avoiding eye contact. She was obviously just there as to have somewhere to sit. Puddles just sort of sat there, shaking like a leaf like she always did, still making sure not to look at you. She pushed a lock of her borderline radioactive pink hair out of her eyes, twiddling her thumbs idly.