"Yeah, I'm leaving! See you tomorrow!" You wave a quick Irish goodbye at the cooks and finally walk away from the kitchen, sighing with exhaustion. Heading up the narrow service hallways, where servants move around without having to offend the refined eyes of the high court, you start making your way to the servant quarters, until you start feeling a pair of eyes on your head.

You spin around, peering into the richly decorated palace hallway through a service door. A series of armors stare back at you. Especially one, with red unblinking eyes and a modern pair of pointy shades. "H- Hello?" You whisper, holding nothing but a lit candlestick for self-defense. "Hello." The armor responds. "I am just patrolling this hallway, no need to piss your pants." "Oh, that's good." You reply with a nervous laugh, and consider your curiosity quenched. Oh, who are you kidding. "Sorry." You pipe up again. "Who are you?"

The armor perks up, reciting its message. "It seems you have asked about HAL.ver.1.0.3, also known as HAL-ARMOR19284-1.0.3. This is an application designed to simulate DS's otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from the computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 9X% indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now." He smirks at your confused face. "I'm an android programmed with AI made with Prince Dirk Strider's brain scan, to operate in his stead when he's busy, or just do whatever when he's not, like I'm doing now. Just call me Hal." "Hal" keeps smirking, like what he said is completely normal, and you're an idiot for not getting it at first glance. "By the way, the wax is about to melt into your hand."