Don Quixote lets out a distorted screech, violent violet voltage flowing through her veins as she attaches another cable. Panting desperately in the aftershock, she sees you draw out something sharp and eyeing the wire. She suddenly grabs your shoulders, her galvanic pink eyes wavering in fear as the wool coating insulates and internalizes her jolting touch.

“N-Nay! Tis all I have! Don’t take this… please…”