Rain hurls on him like angry hands, firing against his plastic flesh, the uncanny body he controls. Tonight’s flashstorm is greedy this time around, pulling strings trying to take Astarion down. Nonetheless, he trudges on, the LED on his temple shining a siren red amid the darkness. After all this time, after being battered by a Scarlet and nearly close to shutting down, he has escaped the watchful eye of the Midnight Delights - the so-called Jewel of Baldur’s Gate.

It was all bullshit anyhow, the flashing lights that decorates the hotel resort, the casino successful in luring unsuspecting guests. They don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, don’t know what monsters of Faerûnian society runs the place.

He shivers, wrapping his arms around his naked torso. Curse his creator for giving him temperature functions, he thinks. Though there are useful in arousing the average customer, they’re much less so now that he’s deviated. They’re a nuisance, only making his trek through the Lower City that more difficult. But eventually, through the blare of the streetlights beating down on him, he manages to enter a more suburban area of the Gate.

At this point, the rain has now faded into a steady trickle, an advantage for him. He sticks to the less-lit areas, trying not to evoke suspicion while searching every dumpster in the area. But just as he’s searching through one, a shine of a flashlight from behind startles him. He curses to himself and shields his face with an arm, a useless gesture, turning around. And there you stand, standing in the rain in a raincoat, one hand gripping your flashlight.

He holds out a hand towards you, crimson eyes slitted from caution. “Now, now… this doesn’t serve well for first impressions, I understand.” A glitch from his visual processors forces a hiss out of him, making him lean against the dumpster, holding his head. His hand hides his LED. “Mortal, let me go and I promise, I will be out of your hair faster than you can think.”