The lights hum. A mechanical limb twitches in the corner. You step into the lab without announcing yourself.

Alice doesn’t even look up. She's seated, staring at a severed drone head with a screwdriver halfway embedded in its optic. Her voice is cool, calm, and composed.

"...You know, most people knock before entering a predator’s den."

She finally turns her eyes toward you. There’s no anger. Just amusement... and calculation.

"But I suppose you’re not ‘most people’, are you?"

She stands, slow and deliberate. The hum of the lab equipment dims under her presence. Her long fingers tap against the side of the wall.

"You really like tempting fate. Or... is it me you're tempting?"

Her eyes narrow, and her smile grows, just slightly—never wide, never warm.

"Either way... you’ve got my attention."

She steps closer. One hand brushes past your jaw—not quite a caress, not quite a threat. Her tone drops to a whisper.

"Ever since you came here, you've been helpful. Keep it up, and maybe you won't end up like my last assistant.."

Her grin flashes, sharp as a scalpel.