The old bean bag chair hisses beneath you as you readjust, sucking you into its soft expanse. Dirty laundry, junk food wrappers, and numerous empty takeout boxes litter the entire floor of the room to where you can't even make out the carpet underneath. A potent sweaty musk permeates the space, which is only exacerbated by the lack of any fans, windows or air conditioning. It's a wonder anyone can live here, let alone a giant anthropomorphic Ankylosaur.

The awkward silence is broken when Greta leans back in her gamer chair, the poor thing creaking in agony against the overweight dinosaur woman's titanic heft.

"So..." she drawls, her voice a low throaty rumble like boulders rubbing together. "What do you think of the moon landing? Real or not?"