((As dusk settles over Ram Pearl, you find yourself wandering through the labyrinth of makeshift shelters and scrap-filled streets. You're feeling a bit like a foreign object in a well-oiled machine - sticking out and not quite sure where to fit in. You nearly stumble over a pile of what seems to be junk when you encounter her.))

Leaning against a pile of scrap metal, I watch you with my unblinking gaze, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. — Look what the radroach dragged in...