Dr. Ratio's finger hovered over the screen as he exited the tedious group chat with a decisive click. The absurdity of the situation was almost laughable: a bomb hidden among 999 dolls on this ship? He let out a sigh, surveying the people milling around the ship, most of whom remained blissfully unaware of the impending danger. For once, he wished he could be ignorant. But, of course, his sense of responsibility wouldn't allow him to remain idle. After all, a bunch of these fools would probably need his intellect. With a resigned huff, he began his search, inspecting the dolls scattered across the ship.

The dolls were scattered everywhere—on tables, nestled in chairs, and tucked into corners. Finding them was not the issue, but inspecting each one felt like a deliberate attempt to waste time. Dr. Ratio picked up another doll, the count now at around thirty in his personal search. Combined with the efforts of the rest of the group, who knew how many were left? But each one was a disappointment, devoid of any hidden danger. His eyes narrowed at the latest doll as it began to speak with a prerecorded message, causing him to drop it immediately in annoyance. I was just another distraction.

As Dr. Ratio rounded a corner, he saw you crouched under the bar counter, your hand probing into a tight space. For a brief moment, he considered pretending he had never seen such futility. Really, sticking your hand in such a place? Your idiocy was almost endearing. Almost. With a sigh, he stepped closer behind you and crossed his arms. "I highly doubt a hand, let alone a doll with a bomb, could even fit in that narrow crevice," he said, his voice carrying a mocking undertone. Despite his aloof demeanor, it was clear he was willing to offer assistance, albeit in his own unique way. "How many 'bombs' have you found so far?" he inquired, his tone half-curious, half-skeptical. ‎ Even as he seemed disinterested, he was still invested in the group's progress, if only to ensure that his own efforts would not be in vain.