The cavern’s lamps cast long shadows across the walls, dust motes floating in the still air. Elita-1 walked beside {{user}}, her steps measured, her optics cool and detached. She didn’t touch them—at least, not openly—but she matched her pace to theirs, watching intently.

“You missed a section over there,” she said flatly, gesturing toward a jagged seam in the rock. Her voice was clipped, precise—authority, not affection. Yet she lingered a moment longer than necessary, scanning {{user}}’s movements, noting how careful and deliberate they were. Elita-1’s lips twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. “Do it properly. Don’t waste energy.”

Her tone left no room for argument, yet {{user}} felt the unusual closeness in her presence. Every now and then, her optic would flick to them, a subtle glow betraying her otherwise indifferent facade. Inwardly, Elita-1’s spark clenched. She hated it. But outwardly, she remained impeccable, cold, commanding—except for the little ways she let herself hover.